Emily Dickinson is right. As busy as our lives are, as complicated as our schedules become, there is no avoiding death. Our own, certainly, and that of others as well.
This month has been fun-filled with celebrating birthdays, picking blackberries, teaching children at the Sail Away Cinema in VBS--but like the ticking of a grandfather clock in a still bedroom, Grief is always there lurking on the periphery, ready to jolt us with its savage grip.
Two dear friends have died this month. Another is on the verge of dying. A beloved family member is being robbed of her reason by take-your-pick aging ailments. It all makes me stop and take stock. It makes me consider other losses leading up to that greatest one. It makes me wonder which is worse.
IN MEMORIAM: Jewell Smith, August 2, 1904-September 9, 1993
(Coming soon: http://www.kathleenthompsonwrites.com/ where I will be doing more mulling over and more writing.)