Day 347

December 13, 2021

This day seems to be special for many people.  For me it is the day of birth for my Lost Daughter.

Happy Birthday!

This is the same hive I posted last week.  Within that week we have had several nights of very strong winds.  When there are leaves on the trees the hives are better protected. This one may not make it through the winter.

Last summer friends of mine lost their son to cocaine laced with fentanyl. Formally it was declared an overdose, but as his Aunt pointed out to me yesterday, he was poisoned, they didn't know the fentanyl was part of the deal.  His death has left excruciating pain for his parents.  His father lost his mother to cancer when he was six and he has wrestled with loss ever since.  I could taste the loss.

When I first started serious therapy the therapist said to me you are a victim of loss.  Over the years what that meant got clearer and clearer.  As it has gotten older, it has not lessened, it has changed and it has become a very important part of who I am.  It is the rich browns and the burgundy and maroon.  It is the silence and the empathic root.  It is what makes me fragile and superman.  Now 49 years later, it is woven in so deep and so fully that you can taste it in me, too.

The rookery was 53 degrees at 3:45 today.  The sun was below the hills and the moon was high up.  There were no birds, there were no goats at the farm, I didn't see a bear although I looked for one. 

Sadness sometimes makes me afraid.  Sometimes I think it might crush me, it makes me anxious and I don't know which way to turn.

But sometimes sadness just makes me still.