Today I read about the passing of Michelle Edwards. We all knew it was coming. But still it twists your heart.
Freezes you in disbelief. She was so young.
She had two boys that will now grow up without their mama.
As bloggers, we mostly know one another through blog posts and emails. Yet there is a connection that is strong and often gathers us all together into a community.
Otherwise, we might never cross paths in this life.
I love this thing called blogging. It has allowed me to meet people from all over the world through my computer.
Just because we may never come face to face does not lessen our feelings of kinship.
Today I sit and stare out the window at the bare branches across the way.
I go back in time and remember why I started this blog, though it was really begun on a whim.
Because I was at a crossroads in life. And I needed to lay down a stone at a certain juncture that said: “I was here.”
It was a way to sort my thoughts, and it became a way of communicating with all of you.
I feel a sense of belonging in this diverse place where we share our homes and lives and hopes and dreams. It is rooted in one’s nature, this needing to have a place to belong.
Writing has always been therapeutic for me. And though I lost all my blog posts July 2013, still I feel they are somehow bound together in one place.
Years of words never to be retrieved. They lost blog posts said: “I was here.”
Our experiences mold us into the women we are. Every painful loss stitches a wound that becomes an emotional scar.
We have mettle, a word you don’t hear much anymore.
As we trudge through life we become stronger, soldiering on through many losses as time moves forward.
Lost loved ones. And lost love.
I am reminded of one of my favorite poems by Robert Frost, “Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening.”
I’ve always loved this last stanza that is filled with such meaning for me.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep. But I have promises to keep. And miles to go before I sleep. And miles to go before I sleep. – Robert Frost
Life is a journey. Whether long or short we can’t know.
What we truly and undeniably have is this very short moment in time.