It was a hard week for my People this week. One had a serious break-up. One lost a beloved pet. One lost a great-grandson. One marked the four-month anniversary of a death in the family.
And still others I know are continuing their own ongoing struggles. Family, health, finances, employment… and so many more aspects.
It seems that everyone I know ~ every one ~ is going through so much. Not just a little jostle, but a full-on battle to keep walking this tightrope of life.
And I’m at a loss for what to say to them. Individually, I want to run to them, hug and hold them and make it better. I want to be in the background cooking and cleaning for them so they can be on “automatic” and deal with what they need to deal with. I want to help.
And I don’t know how.
I want to build up walls and keep them all inside until they’re ready to face the world. I want to stop the world from hurting them.
I want to take their hurts away so they can have peaceful sleep. I want to fill them with comfort and joy and hope.
And for whatever reasons, I can’t. For whatever reasons, I can’t reach them. I can’t hold them. I can’t help them.
But I can tell them. I can cry for them.
My heart can break with them.
And trust me.
And Frankly, My Dear… that’s all she wrote!
Such a lovely post. Thank you!
A friend just shared this poem with me. I thought you might appreciate it:
by Rose McLarney
Some springs, apples bloom too soon.
The trees have grown here for a hundred years, and are still quick
to trust that the frost has finished. Some springs,
pink petals turn black. Those summers, the orchards are empty
and quiet. No reason for the bees to come.
Other summers, red apples beat hearty in the trees, golden apples
glow in sheer skin. Their weight breaks branches,
the ground rolls with apples, and you fall in fruit.
You could say, I have been foolish. You could say, I have been fooled.
You could say, Some years, there are apples.