After the burial, after the memorial service, after the first wave of financial and legal commitments, came the fall. I needed a container for grief, as once I had one for love.
So I began pouring myself into morning and evening Kaddish, into healing meditation (for me, for Rich, for us), into a fixed place where everything could spill out. In these times there are, mostly, tears at the beginning and joy at the end; sometimes the reverse. And I can be assaulted at any time by his absence.
But lately I have been awaking hungry. For love, again. To love someone, again. And rejoice that nothing has changed.
Rich, once, was my reason to live.
He still is.
A love-filled new year to all -- and many thanks,
Candace
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