69
GRIEF
JOURNAL
She
sings
as
if
knowing
this
is
her
last
morning
in
the
light.
Frost
sparkles
on
hedgerows,
field
grass,
trees;
a
powerful
sight.
The
sunshine
is
bright.
But
weak.
As
she
is,
bald
beneath
her
woolly
hat.
Red-‐cheeked.
She
is
grieving
herself
–
the
loss
of
a
mother.
Darts
of
panic;
stomach
spasms.
She
gasps
for
breath
as
despair
tries
to
smother.
She
knows
the
exquisite
joy
and
pain
of
living.
She
senses
the
futility
of
haw,
holly
and
ivy.
A
long
season
is
coming
to
an
end.
There
will
be
a
hardship;
One
that
only
she
can
bear.
That
is
why
the
others
have
gone:
She
must
face
it
alone
Because
only
she
can.
An
angel
of
light
must
leap
into
the
dark,
Set
the
still
vacuum
rippling
With
the
shock
of
this
departure.
She
must
endure
a
transformation
*