Unintentional Poet

Easter Sunday; a strange thought this year. Celebrating the impermanence of death when it feels permanent and heavy right now to those of us left here, in her wake. Celebrating hope, light and victory when those things still feel a long way away on the hard days and the dark days, when grief wraps its bindweed more tightly. Celebrating a God for whom nothing is impossible, yet we did not see our impossible become possible. Joining in with dancing and joy when tears are more my currency. It's easier to face Good Friday. I can relate to a tortured and suffering saviour. He gets it. He's walking it with me. I dwell comfortably in Easter Saturday when hope lay dormant and sadness took hold. I belong with the exhausted disciples and the women overcome with emotion and grief. I'm not at all sure I am ready for Easter Sunday. Dancing, rejoicing, all-things-come-good. I will stand there one day, feeling it more convincingly.  But for now my life is Friday-Saturday

I have found Mothers' Day hard before, trying to hold in tension my gratitude for the beautiful children I have and my sadness for the one I didn't get to keep.  It is a day countless others find hard too.   This year feels like a whole new level of struggle is looming as I must face yet another difficult day, where my raw emotions will be dragged to the surface and shaken and beaten just a little more. It is six months since my sister passed away; Mothers' Day without her is another hard 'first'.  This time last year we had no idea our worlds were about to implode.  She was diagnosed a week later.  Writing this poem has helped me to face it better.  It is not a cry for pity or a judgment on those celebrating - just a pure reflection of my thoughts and emotions as I continue to walk this road of grief.  I hope it will make fellow strugglers feel less alone. Thanks for reading! Mothers' Day   Last year,  My sister took the early slot,  Taking flowers an