Thanksgiving has come and gone this year of 2022.

I remember the laughter, songs, jokes and the joy of gathering together.

The quiet of the evening give way to the night.

That is when the pain returns, small things appear in flashes of memory, touch, and sounds.

The grief is still there hidden in the background.

Yet, I know that I must not follow this path into a sad, isolated, loneliness.

My family, friends, my life itself are proof of Life continuing.

I do not want to tie the precious memories of my sons to this universe by missing them too much.

Missing them too much to think, feel, do and react with vitality.

We do not deserve that, not in this life or the next.

So, instead I busy myself with flower arranging with my sons' grandmother, my mother.

Shifting, snipping and cutting them until the flowers, greenery and spaces between fit the center piece needs.

There is a quiet joy that even if I cry from missing my boys, I can still move through the day finish my tasks.

Happiness is being together on any day that we can come together and just be ourselves.

"As the wind blows through the trees.

And the leaves are falling down.

Can you feel the fire light, warm the time of autumn."

"Cloud filled skies, before more my eyes.

Cooling tears and flowing waters."

"Can you hear my heartfelt song?

Hear the thrum of my drum.

Sitting beside still waters."

"Look up high, in the night sky.

A sign of clearing weather.

Come sit beside this fire of mine.

We'll break our bread and drink deeply of our water."