Sunday, August 14, 2011

The Times That Are For Changing

Where once there were three there are now two.My brother died. I took my children to the beach for the healing. The air was soft and kind. The tide was full-ish.

I have been remembering my history with my brother and the times that were the best were the ones where we were around dirt and water and sand.
There were the roots of the tree near the front door that we dug up regularly to make roads for his matchbox cars.
There were the big rainstorms that poured thrilling cascades of water down our steep driveway to crash through our mud and leaf dams in the gutter.
There was the Connecticut beach that we shared with our cousins where we spent whole summers making exquisite drip castles.

I looked for striped Good Luck rocks. I said prayers for him. I have grown up in a world which assured me that the place hereafter can be trusted for its goodness and I choose to believe that.

Then I said prayers for the living: our family and especially, especially, his children.

May the Whole Universe convene to keep them well loved in this time.And I have been thinking about what I said yesterday to a friend: that our Treasure is in the place where grief, tenderness, yearning, anger and love all exist together. It is messy but this is the truth of my life: a somewhat chaotic gathering of emotions and thoughts. With all of these resources I will walk a rich journey and write a deep story. A steadfast adherance to only one, pristine beauty might be poetic, but then the adventure is over.

There is more.

My children, there, on the beach within arm's reach, had needs. I wanted a good cry and was being required elsewhere. I considered feeling frustrated but then laughed inside at how good a circumstance it is to have my teens trust that their well-being is safe in my hands. We turned around and picked a few more pebbles and photos.

My treasure won't go away.

I told my sister how the grief rolls in and out.

All of it is rolling in and out.