Driving in my convertible, my hair goes wildly to the wind; I honor his birthday with my display of freedom and my disregard for someone else’s thought of it.
The Angel Statue silently greets me, surrounded as she is by a hexagon of paving bricks.
“Happy birthday, sweetie. Mamma’s here.”
For many years my grieving was trapped internally; tearing at things as it bounced about trying to find its place.
Today, I wear it on the outside . . . let it breathe and know the air. Without pride or care of observation, I come and kiss his name. It isn’t sad. This memory brick is like a Christmas tree.
Not meant for quiet repose in a solitary heart, it longs for light and decoration, and celebratory songs to warm it. It is in the sharing that the greatness comes.
Would I grieve the sight of a beautiful sunrise . . . because the rising is done and it is now a new day?
“Sunrise in Petoskey, Michigan”, by Julia Kovach.
For more information on the Christmas Box Angel Statue and the DECEMBER 6TH CANDLELIGHT VIGIL at Angel Statues across the country, please read, “An Author, An Angel & A Healing Brick” at: http://wp.me/p2ckKM-nx .
Any may God bless all our baby angels and the ones who have lost them.