I guess sometimes we need more light and less wind.
I guess sometimes we're more fragile than we realize.
More fragile than others realize.
A recent darkness had me looking for the sun yesterday.
I found fragments of it overhead,
and on my knees.
Warm knees in the cool dirt.
. . . looking back.
I don't understand.
I wish I could reduce myself to a smaller scale.
Note the overlooked and minor miracles that might keep the world sane,
if only we could see more clearly what matters.
I laid in bed this morning with windows open.
Pre-dawn purple and birdsong outside.
I hate that you won't feel the spring this year.
I can't fathom what made you choose not to.
Just hearing that you had gone
brought back a flood of childhood memories.
I bet you didn't realize how much we remembered.
I think you're missed far more than you thought you would be.
Even by those who haven't seen you in so long.
One man gone can leave many holes.
Your subtle exit was a blow to the room.
We stare after you, stunned.
It's so early and there's still so much more to do here.
I wish I knew what to say to your family,
but save a meager I'm sorry,
I can't find the words.
So I hold my own close and ask that the lines always stay open.
That they let me in.
That they always hold on, if only by a thread.
I think you were incredible.
How did you so completely lose sight of that?
There are no answers.
I wish you peace.
And ask silently for acceptance, if not understanding . . .
For perspective in my own life,
and the hands and heart needed to hold it tightly to me.
I ask the same for my family.
For yours, and all of us.
You are missed.