“I don’t think of all the misery, but of the beauty that still remains.” ~Anne Frank
I often hang my hat on a quote. It’s the peg I choose and use to refresh my mindset for the day.
I go for those that whisper hope and grant me courage to start each day anew. Such is this.
It’s been over two years since my son, my only child, took his life.
The years embedded, but the overflow months, no longer a reflex, require counting on my fingers.
“I don’t think of all the misery, but of the beauty that still remains.”
Grieving the loss of his physical presence, the hopes and dreams I carried for him present and future, that part has been a difficult climb. But I take the zig-zag trail now instead of the steepest route.
There I can catch my breath.
Along that gentler trail, he walks by my side. The tenderness of his heart resides in mine and his smile somehow shines brighter than before, radiating warmth and lighting my way.
Not simply deep desires, these things are palpable.
“I don’t think of all the misery, but of the beauty that still remains.”
Longing remains . . . how could it not? But it’s not all misery.
I do my best to avoid background noise and see deeper beauty in the quiet of simple things. Mostly nature.
Mother Nature continues to be both Teacher and Healer.
So strongly my son resides within, maybe he brings that clarity. I see for the two of us now.
Perhaps it is my job, as his mom, to always seek and show him the beauty he somehow lost sight of.
The beauty that still remains.
The ties that bind . . . perhaps we show that beauty to each other.