Knees Touching/Words In The Air, Or, Saturday Morning at 8:58am
The other night I went to a remembrance ceremony held by the grief counseling organization where I’ll be volunteering. So close on the heels of my father’s service, I couldn’t help but look for patterns. The mind grinds when faced with inexplicable, upper case.
My father’s service was, through absolutely no efforts of my own so there is no boast here, a work of art. The professors were brilliant, but everyone was eloquent or witty or original or provocative or narrated history with thought and care. Or, last box in the list, all of the above.The shared remembrance service was mostly much simpler in speech and concept. But I felt as I listened the grief, loss, and the human emotions that we all will know in our lives if we’re here long enough.
In counselor training they teach us the import of just listening. I have begun to tell my friends and family that sometimes I just need words to come out of my mouth.
Often on the social internet, people celebrate the comfort of simple things. Tea and a blanket, for example. A dandelion in full fluff with only one seed flown. The truest simple comfort, to me, is the beat of someone else’s heart and the creases on their listening face.
Have wonderful weekend, simple or complex beyond divination.
My husband and I are both loving Emily in Paris on Netflix, and have just finished Season 3 which…