Funerals are never easy. There is an incredibly beautiful and rich sunset outside. A gift to all of those who formally farewelled someone today. It’s the small things – I have entrenched gratitude into the way I perceive everything. I’m blessed but it was hard work changing those old patterns of negativity.
I cried most of the way home. I looked in the rearview a couple of times. My face was tinged with grey, was drawn and aged. Too many funerals of young people whom I loved. Too many funerals full stop.
It is almost the third anniversary for one of my best friend’s deaths, and a week before that, the second anniversary of my miscarriage.
I don’t much like December anymore.
And I long for the innocence of my childhood where death was unknown. Life was just life. It didn’t end.
I’m lying on the lounge, blogging on my phone, no television, birds talking and an orange hue embracing the room.
I want to say so much but the words won’t form – fighting against my desire to release them.