On the Anniversary of Patrick's Death

We dance and move and live and die in cycles and rhythms of a Mystery that is bigger than our tragedies, a Love that holds us all...and we just keep trying to stay in the embrace of that Love.
But we still miss Patrick every single day.
It's extraordinary to think it's been a year since the worst day in our lives. Our time sense is skewed in regard to Patrick. It really does seem like yesterday that I heard him say "I love you , Mom" on the phone, instead of a year ago yesterday....

I chose to spend the weekend knitting, and in the kind of Silence I learned in Quaker meetings, the Silence that is centered in the Light, the Silence that is alert, an 'expectant waiting.'

We had an experience last evening that seemed a perfect way to honor this date. An unexpected phone call caused us to take a drive near sunset, walk down railroad tracks between large, scary dogs in fenced yards and wind up watching a graffiti artist re-make his memorial to Patrick on a pillar of an isolated overpass. The rumble of cars and trucks passing overhead was the music. We stayed until the sun was well down and stars were shining in the clear, cold night sky.