It occurred to me, after this most tumultuous first of the year, that our passions do not only keep us moving, but can get us moving again. Seraphim Fire has been burning all this time, and I have been sitting against it, trying to find the way to push forward, and get back to work.
A few days before the New Year, my handsome soldier departed on an eight month tour of Afghanistan. I started thinking then about how long the ‘Love Letters’ had sat, collecting dust in a packing box. I knew I should be seeking out publishers, and that voice in my head began to abuse and ridicule my reluctance. “Besides,” it said,” what do you have to feel down about?” and the voice was right. Life was treating me well, and this unfortunate absence would be filled with a busy schedule and lots of… well, probably cold calling. But the point was that things were starting, and all I had to do was keep putting the letters out there, and someone would find them. I just knew it.
Was this my own personal message in a bottle? oh brother…
A few days later, on January fourth, while out to dinner with two of my favorite friends, I received a call late in the evening.
My mother had passed away from a severe heart attack, in her home in Dallas, Texas.
Now if there is one thing that I have learned in the few years that I have actually been paying attention it is this:
There is no preparation for loss, and no appropriate response to such a well rounded kick in the gut.
There is only the people that love you and the love that is left over.
My mother was an incredible woman. Crazy and energetic, and perhaps the most fun person in any room that she walked into. We had spent so much time apart, the two of us. But while going through the albums, and admiring the woman she had been in the beginning, I found her poetry; typed by an old Smith Corona.
Alright, I have no idea if it was actually a Smith Corona that she had used, but I liked to imagine it was.
what is a love letter with out a little romance?
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