All This Fellow Sees is the Happy

This fellow holds the brochure in his hand, and smiles. I wonder if I should even say anything about it or her to him. There it sat quietly for days. Exactly where I carefully tucked it in the pocket behind the paraphenilia behind the driver's seat, reluctant to bring it in the house. Too afraid of the memories each tiny slice of life would bring, I rarely look at it..well not for too long. Too afraid of the tears, I push it down to suppress memories , he pulls it out and smiles. Where I touch it gingerly and linger wistfully over each picture, this fellow grabs it with both hands , twisting and turning as he recognizes faces and speaks jibberish. I see the past and all he sees is the happiness.. I pray for that mindset.

The Phenominal Mind

There is a phenom of the unconscious mind that triggers a reaction in the human body, the conscious mind struggles to understand. 'It' is the rememberance of time. The time, hour, minute of a loved one's passing. It is that restless feeling that over comes you each month as that certain day looms nearer. It sneaks on you with an overflow of memories and urges to call and/or visit. It brings unexpected sadness and rushes of tears. Makes you wonder why you're suddenly so miserable when you were "fine, okay, and doing so well"...as you like to tell the world. I find this phenom intriguing. I marvel at the working of time on the human mind. The way that cord of relationship and recognition throbs with each of our heartbeats and pulls us a little closer to those going through the same cycle of longing and regret. The way that chord, that sour note of that unwanted, imagined alarm wakes us with the shrill cry, TODAY IS THE DAY!! There is not a day that goes by that I wish a mistake has been made. That I am in a bad dream and none of this is real. Grief takes time to adjust to, time I wish I could snooze through. If only there were a button.

For Want of a Flower

"If I had a flower for every time I thought of you, I could walk in my garden forever. "-Alfred Lord Tennyson