We Live Through Death

Good morning…

We live through death. The death of a dream. The death of a special someone. The death of a life phase we so dearly loved. After the death of her son to suicide, Rosemerry tenderly expresses how it feels to still be here.

******

Still Here by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

After I did not die the first minute,
I lived the next minute.
More truly, life lived me.
More truly, the thick air,
infused with lake scent and
rosemary and late summer
insisted I breathe. More
that the sun did not let me
not see my beloveds still here.
The thick green leaves
of August reminded me
life pushes through.
There was not a half second
I forgot the horror.
And still I did not die.
After I lived the first day,
I lived the next day,
opened the door and
drove the car and held close
the people I love.
Rain fell and a rainbow
bloomed and the night
was sleepless and long.
And longer. I lived the next week.
The next. The next.
I lived the next year.
And the next. More truly,
the same life that lives
through mushroom, tulip,
magpie, worm, eagle, you,
that same life keeps living me.
The horror, no less real.
And love continues to sprout
like new trees after fire.
Slow, and indisputable. A gift.
What seemed gone is still here.
The way light and dark and
air are still here. Another
day. Another year.

******

Night and day, whether the person is asleep or awake, the seed still [sprouts and] grows, but the person does not know how it grows (Mark 4:27, EXB). We humans are not designed to know how the seed sprouts and grows, but, with the breath of God expanding our lungs, we are miraculously still here. Slow, and indisputable, eternal love is still here. What seemed gone is mysteriously still here. Light. Dark. Air. Still here.

Another minute. Another day. Year after year. Life lives through us. What an incredible gift.

…Sue…