Janet's project 1 copyI know loss because growing up I attended the funerals of those who came before me. I touched their ice-cold hands, remembering how they felt to hold when warm. Women wept openly into their silk-thread hankies. Men stood close by to catch those faint of heart. And the true-life of the deceased became visible to each mourner that stood overlooking the coffin. “Pete, do you remember when she…” “Thelma, I remember him saying…”  “Did you know she raised those kids…” “He knew how to tell a joke, better than…” “She never said much, so quiet…” “He is in a better place…” “The little tot just didn’t have…”

Death Then—regardless of the reason—was a coming together to acknowledge a future devoid of the essence of our loved one.  

Death Today is shape-shifting to resentment and prejudice and religion and mistrust and illegal drugs and refugees and drunk drivers and ideologies and women’s rights and politics and greed and technology and all countries who kill their own and those who steal everything. 

Mother Earth has experienced centuries of wars in the names of religion and greed so maybe I should not be so saddened by the shape-shifting we SEE now. However, I am because this war is to kill humankind without any rules of engagement.

So I ask: “Who will be left to touch that ice-cold hand  

 of yesterday’s remembering?”




It’s close to the time when families gather to honor their traditions and their faith. A time for remembering our past: the good and the not-so-good. I was wondering if within the spirit of this season I might somehow find a way to awaken without fear.

Yet, I have reasons to feel anxious because our world is spinning—literally and figuratively.  A shift really that I can neither gauge its length nor its intensity. It is in this sense of place that I find my fear escalating to all the WHAT IFS of life. I cannot trust my used-to-be solutions because they no longer exist. Add to that millions of social media outlets (my blog too) that paint countless genre of mankind’s plight.

Awaken is a word that means: rouse, develop, wake—so herein begins my answer. Like Hansel and Gretel I will first drop white stones to find my way home: Faith, Family, Tradition and Remembering. However, cast off a second time was dreadful for Hansel and Gretel. So I must be careful and drop more than just breadcrumbs to awaken.