a prophetic voice-

Grieving continues... and it never ceases to amaze me, though I have traveled this road many, so many, times. Writing bits and pieces... words oozing forth from a tired heart and mind... grief work tired... bone tired... focus remains elusive and      energy low,                         l ow,                                   low, even after hours of sleep. Grief work, it is called, and work it truly is, this walking through the valley, re- shaping my life around a gaping would still oozing sadness. touching... Touch... being touched... the gift of massage... as muscles relax... emotions release... and I am transported into silent, blissful rest. Blue skies smiling at me... The clouds are parting       Fog lifting       Blue skies peering through            the rent in the universe                   called grief. I stand on tiptoe on the brink of a new day       Trembling with anticipation                             and wonder               

My sister, Kathy, died on Thursday, Feb. 25th, after a final six-week ending to her journey with cancer. She never would permit anyone to use the language of "fighting cancer", "battling cancer", or being "at war with cancer", since all of these terms connoted a violence to her which was simply not in keeping with who she was and what she believed. She felt that it put one's own body in conflict with itself, and she needed all of her body's forces to be aligned and united in this day-to-day journey she faced and walked with beauty and grace and determination for nearly four years.      My other sister, Susan, my daughter, Hope, Kathy's best friend, Debby, and I had the privilege and joy- oxymoronic as that may sound- of helping to care for her during those weeks, along with her wonderful, caring, and dedicated husband, Larry, her precious son, Wren, and his lovely girlfriend, Carolyn. Together, we formed a small community o