Tonight we're doing something. Something interesting, unique, and a
little scary. We're going to the Statewide Annual ’15 Craft,
Photography, Video & Digital Works Gallery Stroll. A piece (or
maybe 2 or 3 or 10) of my nephew's artwork will be displayed. I'm
excited to see all of the various perspectives on the world. My nephew’s
work is a sort of photographic collage. I love it. Okay, it's an obsession. I own several pieces ~ from
his beach series, his stage series, and his subway series. They’re
strategically placed throughout my house, some hung, some still waiting to be hung. (That’s another
post.)
My nephew, Chris, won’t be there, but his widow will.
Although, I suspect, he will be near, watching, appreciating, beaming with pride, and love, and loss.
I believe that all of our lost ones are doing this.
Watching. Close. Guiding us. Laughing with us when we stumble, crying with us
when we hurt, showing themselves in thoughtful, mysterious glimpses. We grieve for them. It never goes away. They are bricks in our pockets. More are lost, and the grief compounds. Family, friends, strangers. Some make the news, most
don’t. None are less important, none carry less weight for those left behind.
The loss of anyone is a loss to someone. Someone’s spouse. Someone’s child. Someone’s
world.
The seemingly senseless killing of late by terrorists leaves me grieving not only for those lost, but for those left. For the brothers
and sisters, moms and dads, children, aunts and uncles, grandparents, friends,
coworkers, and countless other relations, close and distant in proximity and connection. Innocent people who had never encountered those pulling the
trigger. Who didn’t make the legislative decisions that brought war to a
foreign place. Who were sitting, eating, watching, listening, without a care in
the world. Who don't share the religious views and desire for martyrdom of those standing before them. Who were without the ominous foresight that their end was coming.
For those who were left, I’m sorry
for your loss. I wish I knew what to do to create a world in which killing wasn’t
arbitrary, and daily. I pray their death was swift, that a purpose comes from it, and
that they had no regrets.
Hug your children. Say your I’m sorry’s. Catch up on
your I love you’s. Let things go. Forgive. Love. Pray. Peace will come ~ If not
for the world, for your world.