My beloved husband, Rex Ross. was born December 7, 1944. He passed away on December 9, 2010. You can read his obituary, his amazing story of his transplant (as well as my version of that story), and my earlier thoughts on care giving below on this blog.
I renew my attention to this blog on the anniversary of his Memorial service at Oconee Presbyterian Church. Those friends have become family, “my people,” I often call them. They provide hugs, calls, meals, lunches out, and all the things loving, Christian folks provide for one another, and for the world around them. I have truly been blessed during this year.
I want to reflect on this year and this day again through my blogs, web site, and Facebook pages. Please feel free to respond, and I’ll write back to you as well. You can sign up to receive new entries as they appear; fill out the yellow “Join Our Mailing List” box. Your email will never be used for any other purpose!
For today, Pastor Sue Jacobson shared this incredible poem by John O’Donohue. These words have brought me more comfort, have spoken more truly, and remain in my daily ritual of healing than anything else I have run into this year. Thanks Sue…and everyone else!
When you lose someone you love,
Your life becomes strange,
The ground beneath you becomes fragile,
Your thoughts make your eyes unsure;
And some dead echo drags your voice down
Where words have no confidence.
Your heart has grown heavy with loss;
And though this loss had wounded others too,
No one knows what has been taken from you
When the silence of absence deepens.
Flickers of guilt kindle regret
For all that was left unsaid or undone.
There are days when you wake up happy;
Again inside the fullness of life,
Until the moment breaks
And you are thrown back
Onto the black tide of loss.
Days when you have your heart back,
You are able to function well
Until in the middle of work or encounter,
Suddenly with no warning,
You are ambushed by grief.
It becomes hard to trust yourself.
All you can depend on now is that
Sorrow will remain faithful to itself.
More than you, it knows its way
And will find the right time
To pull and pull the rope of grief
Until that coiled hill of tears
Has reduced to its last drop.
Gradually you will learn acquaintance
With the invisible form of your departed;
And when the work of grief is done,
The wound of loss will heal
And you will have learned
To wean your eyes
From that gap in the air
And be able to enter the hearth
In your soul where your loved one
Has awaited your return
All the time.
-John O’Donohue, To Bless the Space Between Us-A Book of Blessings
NOTE: I add this link for your convenience in reading more about the book I quote from. I hope you find it useful….