Pulling Up Grass
My 40th birthday is on Tuesday. I was born on September 28th, 1970, and I am so grateful to have been on this planet for nearly forty years. On September 28th, 1960, my father was run over by a Detroit city bus. He was fourteen years old and was told by the doctors on that fall day that he would not walk again, and would never have children. It wasn't my body that went through that, but in ways, it feels like it was. Though I have danced my way back to myself, I still carry bits, and pieces of the grief of my father in me. The day I was born I did not know I would be connected to my father through this wound. But I was. He always said to me on September 28th, that it was the best, and worst, day of his life. My Dad always sent me a dozen red roses on my birthday. This summer I pulled up grass from his grave. It's all I could do, and make this short clip of it for him. You can view it on the link below.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2MUsIWP_jw
www.youtube.com/watch?v=x2MUsIWP_jw
jenny, so many tears streaming from my eyes! touched, humbled, and then LAUGHTER through it, seeing Lizzie's little pants and her smile! you see the world straight from the eyes of the soul...the light and dark, holding space for both. thank you for this...
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Good morning, Jenny and thank you for sharing, as always, from your heart. Happy Birthday, dear girl. The earth, and we, are blessed to have you here.
Tenderly,
Gayle
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Best and worst. Death and life. Pain and joy. Love and loss. All One. All Ours. All the Time.
Freshly remembered...today...through You Jenny...grass... truthtelling...pulling us in... All...seeing...possibility...child's hands... bagpipes...wind... xoxoxxoxoxxoxoxoo
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