build a sand box

Two years ago my mother passed away. And, well, I am sure I can never really feel "over it".� And, quite frankly, that isnapos;t how you are supposed to feel.� But, in that time, now, I think Iapos;ve just come to accept it in a more peaceful and open way.� Itapos;s not a hurt, more of a vivid memory--happy memories.�

Dealing with another friendapos;s loss this week, today, it brought a lot of those sad memories back.� Those uncertain times. And the tears and questions, doubts.� But, even that, even today, standing there, suit on, back row, church lights, flowers.� Even then, I was at a comfort with myself--almost wanting to somehow transfer that assurance that everything would be okay to her.� That if somehow a hug, a smile, or even a simple nod could somehow explain that, yes, it will hurt, but there are beautiful days to come.� And that, now, as I sit here, I realize that with the crowds gone, and the tears dry, that now, I am happy in the memories of my mother.� I am happy in the past.� Because, so much I do today, will do for the days to come, are shaped by my motherapos;s love.�

Standing there today, again, I could feel the sadness in the room, I could feel the heaviness as the casket was carried to its final stop, and the tears were once again so very real.�

But I was happy.� I�was sure.� And I know I canapos;t extend that kind of feeling with such swiftness� And, really, I donapos;t think itapos;d be right to even if I could.� Because I know, I know, that it is okay, and right to feel, really feel that sense of loss.� It only makes that hope so much brighter.� It takes time.� But we believe, with hope.

And so it goes, we let go, with hope.

build a sand box, build a saltern car, build a sail car with straws, build a sail boat.