Tomorrow would be my Father's 83rd birthday. The flood gate opens, though the memories rushing through are not of the last days of his life. Those last months of sadness, those haunting images, the raw feelings of grief have less power over me. Instead the healing water of time has rushed by (Time is an odd measurement isn't it? Fast – slow it counts differently depending on every second we are living it doesn't it?) carrying me to a new ground where signs of spring are evident… Life continues to continue, winter's barren branches will bear fruit.
Two years ago many of you told me that this would happen, that I would feel as if I was left standing at that marked moment and yet I would move forth.
Healing water
soaked through me
cleansed the sorrow
renewed my joy.
Tomorrow will be a joyful day.
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