“The Dining Room Table,” A Still Life — Images by kenne
In a little while we will be leaving Tucson, driving to San Bernardino to be with family as we celebrate the life of Virginia Chapman, Joy’s mother.
Since Virginia’s death, we have spent time reading Marie Howe’s powerful book of poems, “What the Living Do.” In a time of grief, her poems provide instruction for the living, one of which I share with those who follow this blog:
The Dream
I had a dream in the day:
I laid my father’s body down in a narrow boat
and sent him off along the riverbank with its cattails and grasses.
And the boat — it was made of bark and wood bent when it was wet —
took him to his burial finally.
But a day or two later I realized it was my self I wanted
to lay down, hands crossed, eyes closed. . . .
Oh, the light coming up from down there,
the sweet smell of the water — and finally, the sense of being carried
by a current I could not name or change.
— Marie Howe
So sorry for your loss. Safe travel and may you be filled with sweet memories to help comfort at this time. Blessings, Judy
Sent from my iPad
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