16 June, 2008

The Farm Journal

Grieving.I found myself sitting across a table from someone telling them that I was coming out of a funk. Grieving seen as a funk. It's odd how we often don't notice how badly we have felt, until we no longer feel that way. I notice that the spaces inbetween the sad moments seem to grow further apart, while the sad moments deepen into the realization that dying means a person is never coming home from vacation, or work, or an afternoon in the garden.

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