I’ve been feeling blue the past week. Two years ago this
week Jack went into the hospital for what turned out to be the last time.
Yesterday I
went down to Battery Park. Jack loved New York City, as only a convert to the
city can. We sometimes went to Battery Park and wandered along the waterfront.
I wasn’t exactly retracing our steps, because the park has changed. There’s theSeaglass Carousel, sea-creature shaped
sculptures one can sit in; it wasn’t running when I walked by, but it looked
like something Jack might have liked.
I sat
facing the harbor, the Statue of Liberty across the water, Governor’s Island to
the left and Staten Island beyond; Ellis Island, Liberty Island, and New Jersey
to the right; and in the far distance the cranes that lift containers off the
freighters and put them on trains. Seagulls perched on pilings, backs to the
wind.
Nearby, I
found the labyrinth I had walked last summer. Walking it yesterday, it felt
like a way of moving forward while staying in the same place. Is that where my
grief is taking me these days? I do keep moving, but I seem to be still in the
same place. Maybe that’s where I need to be right now.
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Grief is such a mystery. I'm glad you are putting words to it and that you had the sacred space of that labyrinth to think within.
ReplyDeletethank you, Kristi. It is difficult, but writing helps me understand some of the mysteries.
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