Our trip west, through our nation’s national parks in Utah and Arizona’s landscapes, continues to exceed my expectations! Those pesky expectations are being left, quite literally, in the dust.
On our hikes, or traveling on black ribbons of asphalt through other-world-like spaces, I’m noticing, and thinking of Mom and Dad alot. Missing them in a sweet way.
They liked traveling in our states. They would have loved to hear about our adventures. I miss not sharing this with them, and I miss their interests in us.
I am grateful this morning for this tender awareness. It gets lost, or misplaced; drowned out in the hub-bub of city and chores. I like to think that they and Trudy are watching and smiling from their place of sublime wonder and love. Lofty ideals grounded in this almost-hurt in my chest for being their daughter and sister still here.
There are not many things we know for sure about how life and death and before or after life and death works, but this is one thing I do know.
My family loved and loves me, and wanted and wants goodness for me. Not everyone is left with such a gift when left here. I have come to know this by listening. That this knowing of being loved by a parent or sibling, even when there is strife and struggles, is not a given; not always the case.
But here in these wide open spaces I am found knowing my reality of being loved, timelessly. It creeps up out of the rocks with its tender yet powerful truth. Almost overwhelms me with its reminder.
Love is eternal.
Older than these millions-of-years-old formations, deeper than the canyons that I get to see and hike, love endures. Lasts.
I am still loved, and, so are you.