Following Intuition

My intuition has always served me well, that is, when I have followed it. So often, I let my mind, other people's opinions, societal expectations, bosses advice, whatever the case may be, interfere with my intuition....that small voice inside my spirit, my soul, my heart, that tells me exactly what to do. When I follow my intuition all is well, it is when I don't that I find myself getting into trouble...not sleeping, becoming ill, or internally stressed. When I follow my intuition I know that I overcome fear with faith.

I can count the many times when the peace comes from following intuition. There are beautiful moments and my body can breathe in and exhale with the delight of knowing I am at peace when I follow that spirit, that voice, that word from God. I know exactly what people mean when they don't make decisions until they "pray about it". I know because many times I have had an encounter, conversation, discussion with God about how I should proceed or what I should do, and the answers always come in the form of that voice or holy spirit He sends to give me my clues or signs or answers. It's when I don't listen, that conflict comes!

I think of intuition this day as I denote a sense of peace about my life. Yes, there is turmoil, pain, loss, hurt, tears and grief, but still, there is peace. The peace comes in surrounding myself with people and situations that provide energy and light and love. God has given me the opportunity to call the shots, if you will, create my own agenda, and the funny thing is, He always did. I just don't think I saw it that way. For part of my life, I think I went through the motions, was not still, and didn't listen as profoundly. In the devastation of loss I have learned to hear and follow and be still, and follow my own inner voice, and know what God is directing me to do. It's a beautiful agenda of life, and I now know that everything I was directed to do up until this point, was to prepare me for this moment.

It's usually frowned upon, a bit, when you use intuition to guide you in the professional world. Bosses want concrete answers, not gut responses. They don't want to hear about how this makes us "feel", they want to base the response on data. So we conform, and we do what is necessary, but even in my professional world, I followed intuition at times, and when I did, the results were glorious. When I didn't, well....

In my personal life, nothing prepared me for the passage of my daughter from this world into eternal life. Absolutely nothing. I had no resources, no data, no earthly guidance, no manual. I had a loving God, who sent me loving family and friends, and I had an inner voice that knew just what to do. I didn't stop to even think if it was "right" or not, I was led by spirit to guide Allison, along with Joe, to hold her, to tell her the story of Jesus' love for her, to ease her into a passage that was so necessary to relieve her from the pain and confines that were raging in her physical body. I knew to cradle her, rock her, whisper and exactly what to say. I asked God how to do this, to please help me know, and He answered with a beautiful spirit and intuition that brought about peace and tranquility to the end of one life, and the beginning of another. I overcame my fear with faith.

Life would be beautiful if I could say that I follow my intuition, as I did that January morning and all the weeks leading up to it, at all times. But I must admit that there are times the questions surface..."what do others think", "is this the right thing to do", and so on. I work at abandoning those thoughts, knowing and trusting God to give me what I need and the courage to listen to the voice, the spirit that guides when I allow it to do so. Following intuition is so freeing, there should be no other agenda in this life.

A Teacher

Yesterday, I had the chance to spend delightful time with two friends whom I met while in the early years of our teaching careers. We savored time and memories during our four hour brunch at my home, and even indulged in a mid-day mimosa...because we can and because the three of us know full well the impact of loss and how we are not guaranteed one more day. It was a beautiful day as we shared stories, some with tears in our eyes, understanding one another's hearts, just grateful that the world could stop and we could just be together. So, we celebrated a new day, toasted to friendship, trust, care, and to life.

After they left, I realized what journeys life has surely taken us all on, one a widow at such a young age that none of us really understood the impact or significance, yet, by example, she taught us how to live strong, raise three small children to be productive, wonderful adults, honor the love and memory of their father, her husband, who was taken from them all way too soon. The other, a blessed soul in her own right, one who has travelled the road of heartbreak in other ways, who is learning to let go and live on, release some of the fear and worry, and live this day. What treasures these two ladies are to me, and what history we have...all in the name of teaching and learning and loving what we did for so long. And now to have the gift of retirement, even in the sadness of our lives, is almost surreal in itself.

Thoughts returned to my teaching career and to my daughter, Allison, who was headed right down my own path, not by design, but because she was a natural. I posted the photograph of the children hanging all around her as she served as a summer camp counselor, because that glow, that smile, that moment of love between her and the children, well, it's what good teaching is all about. Not because I am her mother, but because I have known and mentored many teachers in my time, I can honestly say, again, she was a "natural". A natural because it came from her heart. A natural because she had a desire to instill in young people all the knowledge, care and concern that they could absorb. A natural because she had a sixth sense about people.

Would I have loved to see her reach her potential, help her get her classroom ready, share her experiences, laugh at the stories, cry at the drama, watch her grow into what life had in store? Surely I would be lying if I didn't say an abounding YES. But what I have come to know and accept and believe is that her teaching was just destined to take on a different way of instruction and example. She has become the master teacher, leaving us the lesson plan to follow, showing the brightest and boldest smile, glowing with an angelic aura, shining through each of us who have been blessed to know, or know of, her. In some ways, she is the teacher she would have never been had she lived longer on earth. While she was wondrous with children and people, she can live on and teach to her heart's content, without the "baggage" that goes with it for all of us.

Thank you, honey, for the lessons, the inspiration, the teaching and the glow, left for us to all learn and follow.

There They Are Again...Words

Again, the words, just when you need them, and what a blessing to be able to be still and listen.

This morning, at exactly the moment I was dusting my special picture of the two daughters/sisters that adorn the family room, and my fingers, lingering, on their faces, came a song that seems so truly appropriate for both of my girls. As I gaze upon that photo every day of my life, I see more than two sisters, back to back, color coordinated for the capture of the perfect photo...I see so much more. And I linger. And I allow the thoughts to penetrate, the smile upon my lips or the cry from my heart. I see what was, what is, and what will be. I try not to dwell on what will NOT be, for that would not take me to a good place. So, I just see what I see, and it is a daily gift, that photo that no one would have believed would become so cherished. That photo that speaks volumes.

Then the words, bursting from the speakers, the beautiful voice on a Sunday Morning CD (rush to Barnes and Noble for one of these collections, they are wonderous), the voice of Katie Herzig, singing "Wish You Well".

Her lyrics...brought to my attention the lives of both my girls, the one who gives me strength by living strong and the one who guides from above...

"....I will remember you
Not the way you left but how you lived
And what you knew.

I want to feel your hands
I want to feel your fire burning
right from where I stand.

I'll find my way
Cause you showed me how

I want to know it's you
When I hear your voice inside my head.
Inside my room
I want to touch the sky
I want to see the stars twinkle
Like they were your eyes.

I'll find my way
You showed me how
I'll find my way
Cause you showed me how.

I want to smell your scent
I want to breathe the air I did before
Before you left.

I want to wish you well
The only reason my heart beats
Is cause you showed me how.

I'll find my way
You showed me how..."

Words, thank goodness for words, love and peace, Kathy

Words of Inspiration

There are so many ways that one can maneuver through their life's situations, the joys AND the sadness, the loss and the new life. It seems, to me, though, that the words of inspiration are needed mostly when times are tough, when it seems impossible to keep going without a little armor or ammunition. It is no secret that in the early months, and even now, I find myself creating affirmations or self-talk that carries me from one moment to the other, one breath to the next. I talk to God, to Allison, to my parents, to any angel who will hear me and help me when I am in desperate need. And there is always an answer, it's rather uncanny, how the words come or are sent or God knows just who I need to hear from at that moment. The connections of His heart are beautiful and while I don't believe He is a person, sitting in the clouds, orchestrating just what happens at any given moment, I do know, from my own experiences, that He sends the holy spirit to intervene and assist.

Words are my inspiration, whether in book form, scriptures, quotes, poems, affirmations, lyrics to songs, or a private conversation about life and love with someone special. As I know full well, there is not one among us who doesn't carry a story or burden of the heart, so as we become more open to talking or opening up or praying in front of one another, there is power that comes from words.

I share these words this day, words sent at a time, just a few days ago, when I wanted to shout from the depths of my soul just how much I miss Allison, and my father and my mother, that I would give anything for one more moment. I felt Allison's hand slip away from me, as we held hands, heart to heart, in her final moments, when I had to let go and watch her soul and spirit soar. I had to let go of that hand and God knows just how much I would give all I have to turn the clock back and feel that heartbeat and strength of her hand again. But I cannot. She is gone and each day, a stronger acceptance and acknowledgement of that penetrates my being. Sometimes, like today, I need something tangible to remind me, and as I take the pink tulips to her grave, I will once again, know without a doubt, that she is gone, but her physical body is replaced with a connection that will never be broken. These words remind me that she is always with me.

"I give you a solemn promise
that after I am home in the bosom of God,
I will still be present
whenever and wherever you call on me.
My energy will be drawn to you
by the magnet of our love.
Whenever you are in need, call me;
I will come to you,
with my arms full of wisdom and light
to open up your blocked paths,
to untangle your knots
and to be your avenue to God.
And all I take with me as I leave
is your love and the millions of memories
of all that we have shared.
Do not grieve at my departure
you whom I have loved so much,
for my roots and yours
are forever entwined."

I dedicate this to my daughter, Jennifer, who carries, forever, the love and friendship of her sister, to Lauren and Gregg, who released their baby girl to the arms of Jesus on her day of birth, February 10, 2009, to Tina's family, who released balloons to the heavens on Friday in memory of their beloved, to all of those learning how to live again through loss and grief, and to Mrs. Frances Bayer, who I never met, yet found a connection with in spirit, and who was the inspiration behind these words.

Thankfully, love prevails this day, and every day, this is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad in it.

And The Greatest of These Is....LOVE

This is the day...the day for taking a minute to do what we should all do each day, (but somehow get a bit sidetracked with all the aspects of life), and that is to show love in our own way. We bake, or create, send a card, make a call, share the love on this day, perhaps more than any other day of the year. In some ways, it is rather sweet that there is a day designated to do what we should do every day, take 10 minutes to write out the card, make that call just to let someone know we care, make a neighbor or friend some cupcakes, provide kind gestures. When I look back at how hectic life could become, I hope I stopped enough along the way to provide even the simple messages to those I love...which brings me to the scripture that many of us read, but few of us internalize, or comprehend, including me. I know we had this verse at our wedding, and I have read it many times since, and of course, each time I read it, I ponder over its intent...From 1 Corinthians 13:4-7, "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. LOVE never fails."

I take it to mean that in all kinds of love, husband, wife, sister, brother, daughter, son, friend, whatever the relationship, God intends it to be a blessing and bring us peace. Those of us who are fortunate to have love in our lives, in any relationship, are truly blessed this day. The strength of love in the lives who inhabit our circles is such a gift!

My experience of loss has enabled me to appreciate the love in my life, and the experience to show love, as well. Extending myself to others has helped fill a void in a broken heart of loss. It can be a simple gesture or more complex, it can be a gift of time or a listening ear. There are no tallies, no pride, no hurt, only protection, trust, hope and perseverance, and healing, too. And I can carry the heart of my loved one in mine. The lesson is that love prevails and is the greatest gift from God. Love prevails even when our loved one has left his/her physical space next to ours. We just have to learn how to love in a different way, and we do. While my heart belongs to all of those in my life, it also beats for Allison, and that is right, and good, and gives me hope, and strength.

I came across this little poem that I will dedicate to Allison today, and to all of those who have gone before us. It brings peace and reminds us, that as in the scripture, LOVE NEVER FAILS.

"You can shed tears that your loved one is gone,
Or you can smile because they have lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that they will come back,
Or you can open your eyes and see all they have left.
Your heart can be empty because you can't see your loved one,
Or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember only that your loved one is gone,
Or you can cherish the memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind,
Be empty and turn your back.
Or you can do what they would have wanted,
Smile, open your eyes, LOVE and go on."

I love you, Joe, Jennifer, Allison, Barkley....and many, many more, Kathy/Mom

Hearts Are Sad

There is so much to take in these days, so much to comprehend and absorb, centered around loss. And now that my heart knows the pain of losing a child or loved one in quite a significant, life altering way, the impact is different. We hear the news this week, of one of Jennifer's friends, Tina, who "lost" her battle with cancer. I have a different take on that phrase that we all tend to use, I say those who go on to spiritual life, "won" their battle...but that is a topic for another time. I will surely digress if I get started on that! Tina, according to friends and family, was another one of those young woman, 25 years old, I believe, who lit up a room, who was a friend to all, who lived life to the fullest. Only recently did Jennifer hear about Tina's diagnosis, and was, naturally, devastated. Most likely, more so than had she not been through this entire experience, up close and personal. She now knows, like the rest of us, things about life that perhaps could have waited, but didn't. The cancer was discovered while Tina was pregnant with her second child, who she delivered last fall. Her chemotherapy and treatments were intense, and there seemed to be little hope of a full recovery. This past Sunday, Tina passed, leaving two babies and a loving husband, parents, siblings, and friends. Hearts are sad.

Hearts are sad in our circle of friends who all raised our children together. One of those children is a mother herself, and gave birth to twins, just yesterday. Their little boy will live on to join a sister and brother, but the little girl, Lilly, is in eternal peace, after being diagnosed while in her mother's womb of a heart condition that would not sustain her life for long. Baby Lilly lived for two hours, giving her parents and siblings the chance to know her for a speck of time. Yes, hearts are sad.

Hearts are sad for another mother and friend, whose disabled son passed away to his eternal rest, less than two weeks ago. There is that empty spot that cannot be filled, once again, and she must carry on to tend to her other children and ailing mother. Indeed, hearts are sad.

Sad news seems to penetrate to the core, ripping away our defenses, our dignity, causing us to fall to our knees and ask those hard questions...why, Lord, how will I go on, what will I do, where will this take me, when will I know the answers, when will I feel relief, how do I get up? This morning was a day for questions such as these. The sadness that prevails can sometimes overwhelm and constrict, make us immobile and unresponsive. We can stare at the television and not see the picture, listen to a CD and not hear the music, watch life from the window and wonder when ours will be "normal" again. Other people and their stories can rip our hearts open because we know and have walked, somewhat, in their shoes. When it has happened to you, the sadness penetrates differently, you feel things you would have never dreamed possible, you want to take it all away, the pain, the images, the grief. But you cannot. All that can be done is pray and ask our loving God to mend, heal, and tend to the brokenhearted. With faith, we know He will provide. With trust, we know He will work it out for good. He knows our hearts are sad, and that those times are necessary to find the joy, the blessings, and the light that will come. But for now, our hearts are sad, and that is okay.

Regret

Last evening, when I watched the 60 Minutes interview with the Captain of the plane that landed oh, so safely, in the Hudson River, many things went through my mind. Naturally, I was emotionally impacted to see the many survivors and their families who came to give a hero and his team a warm welcome, a tearful word of appreciation, or a hug when there were no words. As noted by the Captain, and all of us, it was not just the 155 passengers who were deeply impacted, it was their circle of family and friends. Many expressed joy at NOT becoming a widow, or for getting the chance to spend more time with their child. Someone's son, daughter, wife, brother, husband, mother, sister, friend, aunt, grandmother, grandfather was on that plane.

I found the most intriguing reflection to be from the Captain when he noted that he struggled, afterwards, in the aftermath and after shock, with whether he could have done something differently, or made a better decision, or been more thorough. This almost seems strange to us, because, after all, the story has a happy ending. It was a miracle, a story that will be told for generations. And when the Captain received the confirmation that all 155 were alive and accounted for, then he could begin to realize just what had happened. Still, he reflected and it took some time for him to assure himself that he had no regrets.

I have thought, many times, in dealing with my own situations, and those of loved ones and friends who share their stories with me, about regret. I am thankful that I learned a long time ago, from lessons of my father, and my faith in God, that when we live the day and way we are destined, make the best decisions with the information we are given, stay the course and "fly right", we will find the peace that having no regret brings. I believe regret is an appalling waste of energy. When we live with it, we can wallow in it, allow it to consume us, rob us of the life we are given, and it can eat us alive. Now, that is not to say that there are not things I regret, there are many, but I know God doesn't intend for us to carry the burden and waste precious, meaningful time and talent. The good news is we can leave it with Him.

I have spoken with parents who have lost their children, more so than I thought I ever would. They have expressed regret, especially those whose children died very suddenly or by their own design. To them I cannot say how I would feel, the regret, or guilt I would live with, especially if the last words or the last time were not what I would have chosen, if only I had known it would BE the last time. God took all of that out of our hands, and gave us the opportunity to say what needed to be said, or not. Still, I didn't know Allison would leave so soon, and if I could, I may do things differently. I guess that is why I could relate, in some small way, to the Captain's comment. After all, Allison's story was a miracle, too. She was cured, not in the way we had hoped for, and prayed for, but her pain and suffering was brought to a halt and she was free. We are the ones who are not, if we choose to live with regret or punish ourselves for what we did or didn't do or say. I'm sure some would say that is "easy" for me, I was with her, I had some warning or signs that her time on earth was ending, and all of that is true. Yet, there I was, along with Joe and Jennifer, trying to make the best decisions given the information we had at the time. Yes, we were given the gift, but I would like to think that had circumstances been different, and I had been parenting, or disciplining, or letting her "have it" about getting on with school, and then something had happened, that I would find comfort in knowing I was doing my best, my ever loving best that I knew at the time. Sometimes, as in the case of the airplane Captain, there is no room for error, that we are called upon to be doing just what is needed at just the right time. We do our best, and regret has no place in our lives hereafter. Our loved ones don't harbor any resentment, they are free, their spirit has left their physical body, they don't know our pain, only our love. Surely our loved ones have forgiven us if there is anything to forgive, can we now forgive ourselves?

Love Heals

"They" say that time heals, I am not sure I agree. Maybe there just hasn't been enough time yet. Maybe time has seemed to stand still, yet not. Time and healing MAY go together, but I don't think so, not yet. Maybe someday, one day, I will wake up and realize the experts are right, but for now, I just don't know. What I do know, and feel for my/our personal situation, is that LOVE heals. The love of our child gone, the love of our child present, the love of husband and wife, the love of sisters and brothers, friends and family.

When I/we first lost Allison, I recall thinking that I hope to never hurt this way again. Jennifer had a trip planned within the first month and my words encouraged her to go, but my heart could barely take it. Now I knew the full extent (or was beginning to) of the loss of a child and it was all I could do to just hold her here, to never let her drive again, or go out again, or fly off to a destination again. I found I wanted to hold everything so dear to me, right here, as if I had some control over whether I lost a child or loved one again. I didn't want us to part, as if the cocoon of family could prevent illness, pain, or death. What I have come to know is that the love of mother to child, husband to wife, sister to sibling, daughter to mother, friend to friend, allows you to give and take, allows you to release and let go, allows you to encourage and support, allows you to know we can be there for each other, but that holding on, too tightly, does not keep "things" from happening. So, we learn to live and love and laugh and heal, all in our own time...maybe TIME IS the healer!

The best gift of all is that love goes on and never ends, no matter whether we walk in this lifetime or in our eternal life. I remember a friend of ours telling me at Allison's visitation that now I can carry her in my heart forever, just like he does with his father. He told me then that it's as if his father is more alive and with him than when he was physically present. I didn't quite understand what he meant, but now I do. There is a unique and sometimes strange comfort to carrying Allison in my heart, even while I recognize that there is a huge hole in the fabric of my life now, wanting to scream out, "this cannot be", or "I miss you so desperately", or "how can you really be gone?". I still find myself wanting to disappear into a puddle of tears, to escape the reality of loss, to never, ever feel this again, and to even spare those I love from this unbelievable, indescribable heartache. But, I know I cannot. Not one of us is immune from loss, it is inevitable, it is planned, and it is life. The good news in all of it is that we carry that person in a heart that is big enough, bold enough and brave enough to sustain more than we could have imagined.

I know and believe God's love and promise is the ultimate healer, and I am open to time being a healer, too. I am so grateful for His promise of salvation and that our separation from our loved ones is truly temporary, not permanent. That promise, along with His love, gives me the will, desire, purpose to live this day, extend the love, accept the love, and carry the love of Allison and all who have gone before me in my heart, and embrace the love of those on earth who I focus on each day, while I can. I am thankful for this day and every day I have to be enveloped in love and healing.

Here If You Need Me

In the darkness of early morning, I woke from a dream. In this dream, Allison drove home from Chicago, in a red sports car, and had called to tell me she would come home in a few days. Instead, she appeared in a few minutes, as a glorious surprise. She had her casual, "tomboy" look about her, hair pulled back in one of her famous headbands, tattered jeans and her woolen clogs, topped off, naturally, with a hooded sweatshirt, bearing the name of her very favorite town, HULL. She used to wear it around here, for years, and back in the day, St. Louisans thought she was a hockey player fan! But no, this bore the name of her slice of heaven on earth, the place we visited her aunt and uncle almost every summer of her life. She was a true Hullonian if there ever was one, and now, we continue those visits, and bring new people to Allison's haven on earth. She was there, just as in real life, and her presence was so profound that I awakened with joy, with the desire to see her, when, of course, I realized it was just a dream. Tears sprang to my eyes and an instant headache came upon me, probably from holding back tears in my sleep. At some deep level in the corners of my being, I knew it wasn't real. But as we do in restless sleep, I wrestled with it, hoped for it, clung to it for just a moment, yes, that desire to hear her, see her, feel her, hold her. As I tossed and turned, wanting to wake up, but also desiring not to, she stood at our front door and simply said, "I am here if you need me."

I have long since stopped trying to decipher or determine what dreams mean. I do my best to take them as they are and not project gladness or doom. I have learned to accept them, go with them, and just let them be. However, I must admit that some have left me intensely sad, probably because for that brief moment, I thought this real life was the dream, not the other way around. I won't deny that when the dream comes, sometimes I would prefer to stay in that state than face what is truly mine to face. So this morning, I take from it what it was, the altered state of mind and subconscious, coming together, bringing Allison in true form to be heard and felt and sensing her message. Again, I try not to read too much into it, and find comfort from the words or images. I do hear her words from the dream, often, and I know she is there if I need her. We all do. Not in some tangible way, but in a spirit that never leaves us, that penetrates our hearts with every beat, and that finds a new way to continue the loving relationship of mother and child, or father and child, or sister to sister. The beauty of all of this is we don't have to let her go, as some would say. We are learning that she is part of us, for eternity, and that we can continue on with her alive in our hearts.

Allison chose the scripture, John 3:16 for her confirmation, and we had talked about that a few times. She knew, early on, that God, too, was here for her, and for me, and for anyone who chooses to ask and accept. Maybe she was reminding me, this day, that not only is she here if I need her, but that He is, too. I try not to forget, ever, that God and God alone will walk this journey with me. He is the one constant who promises to bring the peace and comfort that only He can bring. Indeed, He provides angels and loving care in the form of family and friends, husbands, sisters, brothers, daughters, and a whole spectrum of support. But no one knows our hearts like He does, no one can cure and protect and care while promising grace and mercy. It's a beautiful gift to know we do not walk alone.

I often wondered if God had told me the outcome of the situations of my life, how would I have prepared, how would I have gone on, how would I have imagined having enough strength and perseverance to keep living. I suppose that is why each new day is its own and we get the opportunity to make decisions around the challenges and the joys. I, for one, am grateful to have my guiding angel here if I need her, and most of all, the Loving Father, who I need for every step. On days I don't know how to do this, or how to pray, or what to ask for, He knows. In moments when I can't possibly imagine finding joy with a broken heart, He knows, and opens a door or window. When days come and the grief stops me in my tracks, He opens the clouds, or sun, or sends the pink beams through the window to help me breathe or He sends someone in need for me to help and nurture. God is good and powerful and all knowing, and I am so grateful He is here when I need Him.

The Music Plays On

It occurred to me, yesterday, during Super Bowl's halftime show, when Bruce Springstein and the E Street Band performed, that the music plays on...and on...and on. "The Boss" had been interviewed prior to the event, and spoke of a deceased member of the band, a gentleman whose life was cut short from skin cancer. You could see it in his eyes when he spoke, the grief is there, the pain of loss, the sadness, and he even shared how they miss him in every day, in every performance. Yet, there they were, packing a 2 hour show into 12 minutes and the world listened, watched, and loved it! The performance had every element of enthusiasm, complete with fireworks and true celebration. You would have not thought that the group was a grieving "family" of sorts, that someone was missing, that their lives were, and are, in some type of shock, because the music played on. Indeed, the music played on.

That is the way it is with whatever we are facing, coping with, or acknowledging in our own lives. It is the not so gentle reminder that life goes on, in spite of what we are living with, in spite of how we feel we will never laugh or smile or enjoy a song again. But, we do. I recall, so vividly, the ride home from the hospital the morning Allison left this world. It is as if time stood still in one way, and that I was walking and riding, slow motion, through something so unknown and foreign. And I was! I remember the coolness of the January air hitting my face in the parking garage, I recall the bag of her personal items being placed in the trunk, and the sounds of early morning...trash trucks, honking horns, school buses with squeaky tires as they pulled up next to us, people going about their normal day. I recall it, but didn't feel part of it. I know we didn't turn the radio on, and I know I didn't for many months. We rode in silence, and I continued to do so for a very long time. Maybe not intentionally, it just happened. Maybe something keeps you from invading your thoughts with music or talk radio at a time like that. But while we rode in silence, I will never forget a car coming up alongside of us, with two or three high school or college students in it, waiting alongside of us for the light to turn green. I was looking at them and I know I stared as they all sang inside the car, looking happy, and just singing that song. I cannot imagine what my face revealed, but I know what was in my heart, crying out, as if to say, "how can you be singing, how can the music be playing, we are numb here". Indeed, we were more than numb, we were in shock, moving through a fog that would become ever so familiar, ever so consuming, ever so painful and lift ever so slowly, yet would hover forever. Yet, the music played on.

One day, I found my foot thumping to that very music. It was foreign to me, this little spark in what had become a darkened world. I listened to the words again, I felt movement in my soul, I reached out and began to explore different types of music and new artists. I even turned the music on in the house. One day it happened, and it evolved slowly, and a slow humming came to my throat. I barely recognized myself, I was almost singing. How could it be? How could my heart be free enough to sing, yet breaking in the pain of all that had happened? Then one day I did sing...was this a sign that life keeps on and that I could, too? Was it acceptable and fine for a grieving, pain-stricken mother to sing out loud, enjoy the moment and the art of music and to live again? It was more than "okay", it had to be done, it was time, in my own time, the music came back, the joy of sounds, the melody of life, the words and the stories, it was time. I never thought it would happen, but it did, the music played on, and my heart felt free, for just that song, or just that performance, or for just that moment in time. And it was right.

Yes, the music plays on, and thankfully, when we are ready, it is there, it has always been there, waiting.