is that healing in grief is heart-based, not head-based."
Alan Wolfelt
Just now, as I write, I look up to see the leaves of my neighbor's aspen tree dancing, making music as they tremble and flutter in the slightest breeze, making a soft whispering sound of comfort, reminding me in their whimsy that I am not alone.
The sound of aspen is equivalent to the sound of incoming waves for me, a calming sound. As the wind passes through the leaves, the sound shrouds me in peace and reminds me to find comfort in the still small voice. It reminds me of the love between Russ and myself as well as reminding me to seek beyond the pain to remember the joy.
When I sat down to write this post about the small memories that 'threw' my day, I allowed the Aspen's sound of music to change my heart. Now I sit here and have to think hard on the things that disturbed my day.... a photo of Russ, the grab bar he would hold as I dried him after a shower, his almost empty shop in the garage, his place at the table, an undisturbed side of the bed...
That tree reminds me though...
"There were a thousand little goodbyes.
Those, but a fraction of his lifetime’s hellos."
I need to remember that on days like today, that I can only heal what I feel.