July 25, 2013


You nights of anguish.  Why didn't I kneel more deeply to accept you? Inconsolable sisters, and, surrending, lose myself in your loosened hair.  How we squander our hours of pain.  How we gaze beyond them into the bitter duration to see if they have an end.  Though they are really seasons of us, our winter..... -  Rainer Rilke
     The dogs laid in the tall grass, munching on what are presumably old deer bones.  They thoroughly relish visits to these hay fields but of late, I have no desire to bring them. I have little desire for anything. But my wife's dog, AKA my new Hiking Partner demands it. The dog will growl at me until I take her. And their vehicle of transport across hay fields? Why a jeep, of course. My son's jeep. Mixed emotions every time I drive it. Very mixed.
     But here we are - me sitting in the jeep and the dogs crunching contentedly. The setting sun and breeze remind me that at this time of year, my son and I should be in Colorado backpacking. I am hit with a clenched stomach and sobs of pain. This is not crying. NO. Crying follows emotional pain, there is an order. This is soul destroying anguish where physical pain is caused from the wailing. I cannot catch my breath as my diaphragm contracts tremulously. I can no longer move air through my oral passages as I clench my jaw with fierce yet impotent anger. No more, please, I cannot bear it. I no longer know to whom or what I am pleading but there is no answer as the pain only intensifies. I cannot kneel anymore deeply than this.

1 comment:

ZARZAND said...

9 years ago, I lost my youngest son at 12 years of age. 11 months & 12 days later, my best friend was killed in a car accident. 3 days later, my husband of almost 20 years passed away from side affects to his M.S.

You're kneeling is enough. There's a saying that says, "Having done everything you can to stand --- just stand." Whatever position you take, that kneeling is not lost on the One who is hearing and seeing your every minute. Your son's every minute.