Day of the Dead

The leaves, so lovely when they are dying.  The season reflects change. Death is not to be feared or avoided. I am changing…a part of me is dying. And it hurts. Badly, deeply and so intensely. Yet I have been prepared for this death for some time.  Death allows for new growth.  Grief will be experienced for that part of me that is fading away. But the process of grief ultimately brings acceptance and hope.  Thank you, Elisabeth Kubler-Ross for letting me know it’s ok to say, “But I’m too young to die!”  and , “God it’s not fair  I have an addiction!”  Oh the stages of grief, how you put me on a roller-coaster ride of denial, ANGER, admittance, bargaining (forever negotiating my way out of sobriety), and this miraculous gift of acceptance. Death drapes over the trees, the leaves go from green to orange to brown, and then fall down.  In spring, bright buds sprout from limbs made bare during a frozen winter.  I’m awaiting my winter, but so looking forward to my springtime.  Death does not frighten me anymore. I see it’s purpose and it’s beauty.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

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3 thoughts on “Day of the Dead

  1. I love you, value your strength & admire your ccourage.
    Your writing is beautiful & from your heart. There are two,maybe three Bronte sisters…21st century’s Carter writers.

    Forever grateful to be your Mothet

  2. Robert Frost’s poem was an apt way to wrap.
    This poem of his, “Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening” (listen/watch: http://www.poetryfoundation.org/features/video/18 ) is one of those rare things that has traveled alongside me through most of my journey on this planet.
    I remember my perception of it as a child, when first introduced. Reflecting back, clearly, through all the twists & turns, the many roads leading to this point, I see how this poem, which itself hasn’t changed one iota, has many meanings to me, and has along each step of the way.
    Lovely write.

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