It Cannot Always Be Night

One of my 15 year old’s songs begins with a line that turns out to be from a poem: “even if you’re not ready for the day it cannot always be night.”

How appropriate on the night before we go to Rocky Point for the first time without Philip. I’ve been dreading it a bit but it can’t always be night even though I may not be ready for the day.  I’m going to face it head on, it’s going to be okay… might even be glorious.

Anne

October 2, 2021

SPEECH TO THE YOUNG, SPEECH TO THE PROGRESS-TOWARD

By Gwendolyn Brooks

  Say to them,

  say to the down-keepers,

3 the sun-slappers,

  the self-soilers,

  the harmony-hushers,

6 “Even if you are not ready for day it cannot always be night.”

  You will be right.

  For that is the hard home-run.

9 Live not for battles won.

Live not for the-end-of-the-song.

Live in the along.

The Progress Toward

October 5, 2021

Philip, you are everywhere.

On the early morning beach at sunrise just as the sun touches the beach with soft hues of awakening. You are in Jeff’s absent coffee in 712 SW. In our afternoon bocce, frisbee, baseball, body surfing. You are the anchor of the Patton’s Phil’s BARge as we gather round listening to Barry’s choice Rush tunes and float easily in our bonds of friendship. You are in the bold, distinct laughter of Casey that echos amid the pounding surf and in the deep sea fishing trip and dance party on the 7th floor fish fry. You are on the evening breezes as day closes with its triumphant blazing color and you continue to ring true in each of us as constant as the waves upon the shore.

I smile, truly, with profound gratitude at those who honor you but my mouth belies an equally strong current of unrest. I miss you. 

My heart continues it’s steady beat and, here in this place, it resounds with it’s repetitive no, no, no. I don’t want to be here…without you.

I am angry. I am tired. I am a hater. I hate that everything is about you yet I grasp at every memory of you as well.  I hate that I am mired in my sorrow and am unable to get past it. I hate that I am not rooted in gratitude for your well lived life when I am surrounded by  friends and family in this beautiful place of memories…

So I walk the beach at sunset and I open my hateful clenched fist, wide handed. I purposefully release part of you to the waters of Rocky Point and I hope, beyond hope. I hope to somehow be released from the shackle that my sorrow has become and be empowered to fully embrace my gratitude of what is, now; To embrace my progress toward and to live in the along.

Anne

October 5, 2021