![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvBG-32tJQ7oEmXEg948oubAPdrHEs1i0cbCG_vCFD8iQ0FUG52RKAk58N7zHfLr7JeyN7pCB5y19a9W_WSM4_yToskY9bkrAYEOMe7Q6jmNWiVmNVYzZ6CamvmsPuUVptYsZ9YAdx_JE/s1600/photo1.jpg)
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgYNhG5VnzLVxj8ZzR8jm-QgeCNLXOW3U2x5LCYTt4OJLmyG58YMY1ofjcJ_C-QU0gIl0k9D5CTEdw845WfQmQbGAPs1pK4ElcOUycyWTuxuto2rsmj_zKxo8IeFpwBL2YW3N5RnyBxMio/s1600/photo2.jpg)
My mother owned a small black daisy-like flower broach with a tiny emerald center that had been her grandmother's. My mother liked to tell my sister and me about it, explaining that our great-grandmother was expected to make her widow's grief visible every day for a year by wearing black. Presumably the pin was acceptable jewelry for her to wear during that year. I recently rediscovered it in my safe deposit box and thought for a minute about wearing it, but then tucked it back into its little storage bag.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_AdIhPsxOJjcmhvJjOq6JTYJcqOj0OdNxrcS_-bsRtEXEVte7pWKbmX6STJE4gNSUZpE-5tYlWVTrhpgTQ0oMmNLqp_Sm7e1thpdU7vUt7QUFlbY92XxaOZurxnKQU3ZExpH2MSyE2M4/s1600/photo9.jpg)
That is not to say I don't have my own activities that help me ritualize my own sadness. I like to take morning walks on the lovely Sammamish River Trail near my home. When I see sunlight striking the trees and the river, I cannot help but think of Jay.
The light makes me feel as though I will heal. It makes me feel OK that I am alone and comforts me with the awe of creation. The light makes me feel hopeful and connected to the everyone I love, even if they no longer walk beside me. Walking in the morning light . . . the mourning light . . . helps me feel certain Jay is in a good place, and I will be all right.
2 comments:
We wear our armbands stitched to our souls...
Your blog is a comfort to me too, as I can see it is for you. Nature gives its own perspective. Keep writing and photographing. xo-Holly
Post a Comment