“Love takes up where knowledge leaves off.” Thomas Aquinas

I’ve decided on trees for the theme of this blog because of their ability to shed and change; or, in the evergreen case, remain their true selves regardless of the weather.

It’s been five years since my husband died. It’s taken me this long to start a memoir of our last five years together. I’m a poet, so my chapters are short. they are, right now anyway, like vignettes. It’s amazing how memory locks out what it can and how writing can pick the lock. Scenes come back to me that I had forgotten about, and I jot them down to expand on later. Everyone grieves differently.

I understand the scaffold of so-called stages of grief, but I do not believe that these are universal. Because of Kent’s long illness (cancer) I don’t know that denial, for instance, was ever an issue for me. Organizers like these stages are helpful, though. Again, everyone is different.

Personally, I find poetry my greatest solace. As I embark on this memoir, I continue to read and write poetry. They are like philosophical nuggets of truth. For example:

“I realise there’s something incredibly honest about trees in winter, how they’re experts at letting things go.”
― Jeffrey McDaniel

I hope to hear your comments. Just click “Leave a comment” above.                                           We are not alone. IMG_5284

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