The Tall Stone

I apologize for being so long in blogging. A lot of healing has taken place. I've been looking what I've written in my physical journal over the past couple days, and it did feel like I was building the Biblical altar. You know, when Abram received his promise from God, when Moses made it so far in the desert, when David stopped in his fleeing from Saul to praise, they made an altar. They made a pile of rocks so they could look back and remember that time when the Lord helped them. So here are some of the stones from the past few days...

2/17/06:
"Mom called to fill me in - tell me the family 'had been called in' - though David and I are not. Fifteen minutes later he was gone. I don't know if I've ever talked with my dad before when he was that emotional...
...Paradox: pain is real, hope is eternal. Hope can look like callousness. Pain can look like faithlessness."

2/18/06:
"The family decided to help out with David's airplane tickets, so he can come for the next few days. I pick him up in the mo[u]rning...
...[There was confusion that I was to take my brother's place as a pall bearer if he couldn't make it.] What a terrible thing to have family have to do. I know it is supposed to be a syumbol of respect - caryying a love one on your shoulders. Bearing them high... Something I thought I'd never have to do - a perk of being female? But right then I felt that convoluted mix of emotions of wanting to play the role for my family, but not wanting to go through the emotional journey...

...For the Night
Feather heavier,
bags packed. Clocks set. Flight arranged.
and joy commeth."

2/20/06
"Viewing today. Cousins I haven't seen in decades. Family I never met... It can be so hard to count on eterninty I cannot see - but the simple fact that I have not seen it is enough to tremble in awe of that which is greather than I can know."

2/21/06
"It is for ourselves we mourn - for the seemingly unbearable task of living while you are inaccessable. For the task of sharpening old memories in place of forming new ones. For the burn in muscles having to learn a new way of accepting your love. It is for oruselves we mourn - because we cannot be where you are...
...when the pastor said it ws time for us to pass by the casket 'for the last time'... How my brother did exactly what I wanted to do, and then I followed in turn, squeezing his arm in love liek we had so many times. (He felt so small.) And then hearing myself say 'See you again, soon, Grampa,' which forced my body into the mourning I had up to then tamed. and it was David's turn to hold and cry with and be strong...
...An Altar
I've saved you a stone,
dark and tall, to look back at.
Today you walked on."