Mourning

Yesterday we lost a beloved aunt.  It was not altogether unexpected.  She has been ill for some time, and her body was tired, but that does not make it easier for those of us who will miss her.  My heart has been heavy for her children and her husband who face that gaping hole in their lives and hearts.  I feel some of that myself.

It isn't that I doubt that there is life after death.  That piece of faith has always been anchored deeply in my soul.  Other things I may question, but not an eternal existence.  I will see my aunt again, along with my dear father, grandmothers, grandfathers and my sweet nephew whom we lost all too soon.  What I find myself mourning today is this changing of the guard that we are experiencing.  This loss of our sages, the mother hens of our youth, the pillars of our family, the storytellers, the teachers.  They are going and leaving us on our own for a while. 

And as they drift out of our sight, over the edge of the unknown, my life feels emptier without them.  But I wholly acknowledge--as I recollect my youth, my time in their homes, their laughter, their boundless love and affection--that the emptiness I feel now only comes from a richness of which they played a great part.

I will miss you, Aunt Kathleen, but I am better for being loved by you, and that is what I will remember until I see you again.