. . .  surprise . . .

Grief pours out and there is not an end . . . .

A bird flew around inside my house last year and that means someone’s going to die but it was  you not me.    I’m still here and you’re not . . . . . 

Oh, Meghan.

So young.

It’s been one year since you hovered over me and nagged me until, even though I could no longer breathe on my own,  you and Son convinced me to get an ambulance called . . . . I couldn’t think straight and you did the thinking for me.

And you hovered over and cared for Son during all this.  

And we love you so much and we still need you.

I said so often:   May God give you now all the love you wanted and deserved.   

Be in God’s loving hands.

That won’t make us feel better, but  that’s  a  little bit  all right for us to think of.   It’s just got to be, after a whole year.  


I need a few days.

Love can be awful.



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