Sunday Showers

The weather today: Overcast with the light rain scheduled this afternoon already arrived. Seems an appropriate match of mood and mind. I am tired from a drive of 16 hours over the previous two days, with the sadness of mission, interment of my mother. I continue to hold mourning at bay, but sense for not much longer. This intuit stems, I think, from seeing how extraordinary the people I assembled with, and how extraordinary Mom and the people she now rests with.

Mother, Grandmother, Randall. Ordinary people who expended their lives attempting ordinary extraordinary feats, and succeeding. Theirs is a reality version of the hero myth; they momentarily brazen the universe, knowing they will not survive, yet somehow prevailing, doing their best even when their best may not be so very good somedays.

All these thoughts swirl through me, at first in night dreams, now through dreaming insights of the day. These are not whimsical daydreams, but vivid visual snippets just below consciousness, which pop through from time to time as would ship or shoreline from the fog. I suspect these the first symptoms of expected tsunami.

I welcome its overwhelming cleansing, this mourning. I've waited much too long, as if I had a choice. I know the longer the wait, the greater the wave--and this one is big!

The paradox of the experience these last two days, was the joy a refreshing old ties, of seeing and talking to relatives long missed in the imerative of the immediate. It is perhaps another lesson Mom teaches even in her absence: Do not lose the important to the immediate. It seems a lesson we all repeat endlessly, and need yet again. Foolish on our part.

These sadnesses become the showers of our lives, telling us once again, what we will probably soon forget...but maybe, just maybe, not this time. The universe has patience, endlessly repeating these lessons.

These are our Sunday showers.