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.