Hello my dear. I don’t know that you can see or hear or know what we, those who loved you and love you still, are up to—but I also don’t know that you can’t. So, just in case, I thought to mark this day by telling you how much I miss you. And while I know you miss all of us too, there’s one in particular you must miss fiercely, because that’s exactly how you loved him. So, here’s a few photos of him, for you. If you’re watching, you already know that your boy and his dad are honouring you in magnificent ways. While they mourn you still {every.single.day}, they also move forward with their arms and hearts wide open—holding the space that will always belong to you, and at the same time welcoming in the rest of the world, the rest of life…just as you taught them to.
“Solace is not an evasion, nor a cure for our suffering, nor a made up state of mind. Solace is a direct seeing and participation; a celebration of the beautiful coming and going, appearance and disappearance of which we have always been a part. Solace is not meant to be an answer, but an invitation, through the door of pain and difficulty, to the depth of suffering and simultaneous beauty in the world that the strategic mind by itself cannot grasp nor make sense of. To look for solace is to learn to ask fiercer and more exquisitely pointed questions, questions that reshape our identities and our bodies and our relation to others. Standing in loss but not overwhelmed by it, we become useful and generous and compassionate and even amusing companions for others. But solace also asks us very direct and forceful questions. Firstly, how will you bear the inevitable that is coming to you? And how will you endure it through the years? And above all, how will you shape a life equal to and as beautiful and as astonishing as a world that can birth you, bring you into the light and then just as you are beginning to understand it, take you away?” (David Whyte)
