rough as a corncob
softens in a gentle winter rain
The green lawn shimmers golden yellow orange red with a blanket of magnificent fallen leaves under the gray, almost wintery sky. I always look forward to this time of year to soak up the gorgeous colors of what recently was very alive, vibrant green and clustered together on trees, providing shade, shelter and nutrition for all kinds of creatures. At this time of year, they wear down brilliantly, their lives ending with a blow-out of hues that artists and photographers strive to catch.
Glory in death.
This year several glorious leaves fell from my life. Some fell earlier than others, but they all blazed brilliantly as they finished their purpose and the time came to go away. First my Aunt Betty Hunt, then long time family friend Thelma Johnson, then my mother Mary Jo Hunt Gregoire and then my cousin Danny Gregoire.
They left people behind, yearning to see them again. Their departure allows us to follow suit—serve our purpose, finish in spectacular ways, blanket other lives with our own blazing ends. The time of death is a wonderful time to do our absolute very best, to leave behind burning images of good for those who are just beginning and for those who are still strong and green.
Today, stepping carefully among the tree’s fallen leaves, tears finally flow down my face. Finally, I mourn…and it’s okay.
October 8, 2016…the morning I found the way to mourn.