A candle for a kiss.
Some say there are no wrong decisions, but today it is hard to agree.
Tending to self and family, with the knowledge and awareness of a loved one dying with no last kiss, was the only decision to make, realistically, and yet I keep falling prey to how different it could have been ... if I were just a little better at rolling with it, a little more capable, a little less fragile.
It is a weakness of mine, that if word.
Instead, I look at what decision I did make, the is word: to nap in the morning, to walk down the open road (and back), to listen to the girls and their dolls play an all-day game of Herd Your Horses, with breaks for stroller rides and marshmallows with sprinkles and a walkabout with teacups in hand. To tend the chicks, to clean the kitchen, to move slowly through this quiet gray day.
Seeing again the candle, and imagining it a kiss, a farewell, a gentle passage. Jesus saved her from the family condition of mental illness, stayed by her as she nursed her sons away from it, and it is to His waiting arms she is going.
May it be with the peace that passeth understanding.