It's in my bones

“I had drunk so deeply of grief and innocently gambled so hard with fate and irony that a special kind of vision was gathering in my eyes, not entirely clear just yet. This was the same look people saw in your eyes when you have died for beauty and come to live accepting nature as life with no promise of paradise, and mad at people who couldn't see that.”
― Martin Prechtel, Secrets of the Talking Jaguar

Grief.

Right there.

I can't escape it -- now, not ever.

And you?

We think of it as feeling: "I lost my mother/father/friend."

It sits behind everything we think and do -- for a while at least.

But what if grief was something more profound?

Like...?

Being a faithful witness to everything that our loved one stood for and represented to us and their community.

Better still, our practised grief was celebratory in its purview -- something that we forever demonstrated in our words, deeds and life.

Right now, I'm wrestling with all those people who I once knew and those I didn't but I know are part of the wider family circle. I can feel them in my bones; and they're not gone. Far from it.

Love,

Julian