The Crying World
In Marcia-less Missouri
June, 2018
It is a drizzly, rainy day with distant rumblings of thunder. The greyness hangs heavy as if it is inexorably connected to the oppressing humidity. My lungs feel its presence and I remind myself to breathe deeply.
Arizonans typically revel in the washed, clean, freshness of rain but today I’d rather cry with the world. The oppressing loss of my cousin friend being worn by the world in the sometimes drenching, sometimes pitter patting with rumbles of deepness being expressed.
I sit still in the green lushness of the backyard forest and allow the drip-drip-pour to soothe my weary wanderings. Grief is a process as the rains reminds me.
Later, It is a process, I find, that does not spill from my eyes until I am sitting in the St. Louis airport on my way home.
I hadn’t actually cried, I realize. My tears ever present yet not unleashed; being always distracted from the shed. It is an unexpected kindness by Erin, a Southwest employee, that unleashes the damn, (pun intended) connecting me to my gratitude and loss.
It is the one thing about grief that is freeing; the world gives you permission to weep and be exactly who you are in the moments that follow loss.
Marcia, you are my treasure and I miss you.
June, 13, 2018
AMRB
Tripping with God: Stories of Faith and Inspiration 