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Shattered Glass and Dust Motes~

Posted on: November 22, 2017 | Posted by: Alison Miller

This shattered glass strewn around my feet, under my feet,

Glass that was once my leaping joyous joyful heart,

Shattered as I shared a last breath with my beloved.

Turned into a meat slicer roosting in my chest,

Where my heart once beat in rhythm with his.

His. Now forever stilled.

And mine?

Still beating. Somehow, and mysteriously.

My heart that once beat with his, now shattered glass into glass dust strewn at my feet…

Tiny luminous particles of dust motes dancing in the air

Kicked up by my feet that still walk on this earth

Unbelievably but absolutely

Uncertain yet determined feet that crunch loudly through the shattered glass powder under my feet,

Striding into this shattered glass dust life of his absence.

Glimmering glass dust motes swirling into the air…

Shimmery dust glass reflecting light back to me around me.

Shimmer and glimmer and beauty and pain and missing and Love…

Beating heart to shattered heart to glittering dust that, tenaciously and insistently,

Billows up and breathes through me and around me,

And illuminates my way~

Categories: Uncategorized

About Alison Miller

My beloved husband Chuck died while we were full timing on the road. We’d rented a condo for our stay in southern CA, and I had to leave 3 weeks after his death. All I knew at that time was that I had to find a way to continue traveling on my own, because settling down without him made me break into a cold sweat. I knew that the only place I’d find any connection to Chuck again was out on the roads we’d been traveling for our last 4 years together. I knew nobody out on the road, I knew grief was a great isolator, and I knew I had to change the way I traveled without him, to make it more emotionally bearable for me. So I bought a new car, had a shade of pink customized for it, bought a tiny trailer and painted the trim in pink, learned how to tow and camp, and set out alone. My anxiety was through the roof, and all I knew to trust was the Love that Chuck left behind for me. I found Soaring Spirits early on, thank god, and the connections I made through SS helped ground me to some extent. I needed to know that other widow/ers were out there in my world, because I felt so disoriented and dislocated. Through Soaring Spirits, as the miles added up, my rig taking me north, south, east and west, I found community. I found sanity…or at least I learned that if I was bat shit crazy, I was in good company, and realizing that ultimately saved my sanity. PinkMagic, my rig, is covered with hundreds of names of loved ones sent to me by my widowed community, and I know it isn’t visible to the naked eye, but I’ll let you in on a secret…she actually illuminates Love as I drive down the many roads in our country, and I can see it through my side view mirror. Love does, indeed, live on~

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