Through the tumble

Grief rolls in again.
 
It is late spring and we are in the car, heading south, my wife and I. We have been on this highway countless times in recent weeks, driving to Calgary where my wife’s father has been failing – growing weaker faster than we can provide the supports he needs.
 
Today, though, we are driving to his funeral.

The big prairie sky spills out all the drama of our lives. It is our grief. Unpredictable. Powerful. Lightened, at times. Pressing and heavy at others.
 
White clouds billow and stack on top of one another. Dark towers build. Over there, just to our side, rain is streaking down to touch the dry rolling hills.
 
Grief  Pours in Again

Grief Pours in Again

Here and there a glad blue sky opens and visible shafts of light fall on our wet eyes. We laugh. We know this is the way. The way of life, of sky, of change.

Nothing is as it was just yesterday, just a moment ago.

We arrive early and step from the car into a sudden squall of wind – dust mixed with tiny pellets of snow.

We have no control.

We are mere travelers and we make our way grasping one another, holding each other together on our dash through the tumble.

Comments

  1. Anonymous says:

    I feel like I was there. dk

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