I have written and deleted this phrase in a few posts... 'f*ck. cancer'. We have lost too many, and way too young. There is no fairness. There is only baring your soul to the abyss.
The lack of Richard's touch remains the worst of it. 'My side', no longer relevant. Calling to check in to spontaneously meet is gone. Remnants are torture. What is left is unmerciful.
Gratefulness comes when I embrace the pain, the physicality of grief a consolation in itself. Thank goodness I feel breath stolen, shoulders cave, seeing blinded.
I know Rich is close. Alexandra. Bass*. Grateful I hear their voice. Grateful others grieve with me.
Grateful for the path, the chance to choose to live on. Rich has given me that. Bittersweet, infuriating, scary and mine.
The cumulative good of our lives outweighs hurt. Being surrounded by people that carry love in their breast pocket, soften the jagged edges for us.
A raw deal, Grateful Grieving.
Dedicated: *Richard Bassett, (Bass) fellow cyclist, artist, friend.
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| Creativemark reference books |
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| Research, B.C. (before computers) |
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| Rich's reading |
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