Several weeks ago my mom’s sister, Janeil, visited for two wonderful weeks. She traveled from her home state of California, a lovely place to visit her, but far away. These pictures were taken on a Saturday in October at Fort Saint Clair State Park in Eaton, Ohio. My grandma was there, along with my mom and my mom’s brother Corey, and his family. We had a picnic. We walked. We played at the playground and threw leaves. It was such a nice day, both weather-wise and family wise.
“Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.” —Albert Camus
“Holidays are enticing only for the first week or so. After that, it is no longer such a novelty to rise late and have little to do.” —Margaret Laurence
taken November 16, 2011
“Under my hood I have a hat.
And under that
My hair is flat.” —Karla Kuskin
I have been purposefully neglectful about updating my blog. As much as I love my children I haven’t felt much like writing about them upon learning the loss two dear friends of mine have endured. I know it’s cliché to talk about hearts aching but that’s exactly what mine has been doing all week—no parent should outlive their child.
And this is what I struggle with: Why am I allowed a perfect fall afternoon with my three beautiful children while others must suffer so much? Why do bad things happen to good people? Why must there be tragedy, suffering and loss? How is it possible—and right—that while something beautiful is happening something tragic is as well? At any given second someone, somewhere is experiencing the most profound happiness. And at any given second someone, somewhere, is experiencing the most unimaginable sorrow. Why must this be so?
I suppose the answer is something along the lines of better appreciating happiness because sadness exists. And yet, my heart is so heavy. Life can be so unfair, so fantastic, so beautiful, so unkind. I have a difficult time accepting this, understanding this. And so I try to focus on the good—the perfect, sunny, blue-sky, falling leaves, pinwheel-perfect autumn days. The kind meant for falling into a leaf pile and chalking on the sidewalk and finding snake skin and collecting beautiful leaves and fighting your brother for a turn on the rocking chair and throwing your beautiful leaves in the air. And yet. And yet. And yet. Sometimes, some days, it’s too hard. The world’s sadness haunts me.
“When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.” —Kahlil Gibran