Wednesday, August 4, 2021

The thing with feathers

 Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul….Emily Dickinson. It’s been hope that I’m grieving lately.

 Hope feels like a force inside. It takes up space in the soul. There is no hope Andrew will get better. No hope for a moment ten years from now sitting in his backyard watching his children, my grand children play. No hope and therefore emptiness in the soul. 

Nothing fills this, replaces this emptiness. What I have is acceptance. Acceptance isn’t filling. It can be calm. And calm doesn’t fill my soul. It’s acceptance and emptiness and calm… that’s what I work with; that's one example of what I mean when I say loss has permanently changed me.  

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