Kid’s baseball card photo/talisman, Berkeley, CA.
Had to wait ’til Monday, since over the weekend the spirits flagged too much. Kept looking at pictures of pictures of my nephew, who would have turned 15 on Saturday. Couldn’t post a picture of anything other than him, but then couldn’t really post about him, either. So, a blank weekend. Â Today, just a wee slice.
Every morning I pick up a bracelet I got in his memory right after he died, to keep him and what he teaches me in full view. Â Just before I put on the bracelet, I kiss the tip of my index finger and touch it to his face in this peanut league baseball photo, taken several years before he died, and try to connect/summon/say a little something to him. We all do what we can.
He was lucky to have such an awesome and caring aunt. Zen hugs.
Hugs much appreciated. All’s I know is that we were all very very lucky to have him in our lives. A blazing bright comet.
Thank you for continuing to share this grief and the ways you keep him close. Like so much of your writing, it makes me feel honored to be included in such stark expressions of reality, and it also feels like an example of how to be awake and aware in the world.
Thank you. I believe very strongly that grief and healing are way, way too absent in our culture. The more of us share ours (I believe), the more those around us will be able to see, understand, maybe be of more help. I figure that those who share these feelings might feel a little morsel less alone, and those who don’t might be reminded, as you say, to look at their good fortune in a brighter light.
Long ago I did a list of things people could do to help those in extreme crisis/grief (not so very long after my family had emerged from our biggest crucible thereof). I’m always looking for improvements on that.