DECEMBER 6
Piece by piece, I reenter the world. A new phase. A new
body, a new voice. Birds console me by flying, trees by
growing, dogs by the warm patch they leave on the sofa.
Unknown people merely by performing their motions. It’s
like a slow recovery from a sickness, this recovery of one’s
self.
—TOBY TALBOTBack when our grief was fresh, we thought this would never
happen—that we would take pleasure in the small, ordinary
events of life. Back then, we thought our perception of the
world would always be dominated by this piercing, overrid-
ing loss. So we’re twice blessed when, a bit at a time, we
begin to savor once more the lovely ongoing processes by
which life is quietly fostered, day by day. We’re twice
blessed because the sharp teeth of our loss no longer bite
into our consciousness all the time, and because we’re aware
of the wonderful life-sustaining things going on around
us—like red cardinals against a winter snow or the warmth
of fire when we have come in from the cold. We used to take
these for granted. Then nothing was to be taken for granted
anymore. And now perhaps we—even we—can relax into
the everyday and begin to trust life again.
I will open my eyes and stretch out my arms to the beauty and
wonder of the world.