If I ever gave birth to a live child, and I hoped for that, I wanted her to be a girl, and I wanted to name her Hope.  We all need Hope, in the middle of the long, dark teatime of the soul (my thanks to Douglas Adams for that).  My beloved husband and life mate is dead, and the shock of his passing is wearing off, finally.  The pain is intense, and unlike some of the idiotic advice I’ve received, unsolicited, from the fools that don’t know this pain, it does not improve over time.  Today is awful.   I notice that most people avoid me, because the pain radiates off my body.  I think folks can sense it, like a black fog.   It’s antithetical to life, the smell of death, very off-putting. Mourning becomes Electra, but not me.  I feel awful and I’m not ashamed of showing it.  If anyone has a problem with that, then get thee gone.

I saw my beloved niece and wonderful child of promise, Brigid, graduate from her high school this past Saturday.  I cried during the flag ceremony, of course, because my beloved M. was very wedded to ceremony around the flag, being a combat veteran, etc.  I cried constantly during the day. but nobody knew it, I hope.  Brigid needs hope for the future, she shows such promise, she’s going to M.I.T., what a feat, what a girl, WOW.  If there’s any hope for the future in me, she is it.  What a woman she will be.  I am so proud, even while I am at this moment destroyed by circumstances beyond my control.  She is Hope.

So, go, Brigid, go off like a rocket, with your big Bane brain and your beautiful face full of hope and promise.  I am so proud to be your Aunt Alison.  You will do great things in this world, I know it.  Get what’s yours, you deserve to be happy, healthy and whole.  And if the boyfriend you bring home is not worthy of you, Aunt Alison will deal with him, no problem.  Because nothing scares me, anymore.


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