Monday, May 7, 2012
My friend Karen is a lovely lady, so poised, soft-spoken and articulate. When she told me recently that she had stumbled upon my blog and learned that we (and my late mom) had a mutual love for the works of author Gladys Taber, I wasn't surprised. Gladys Taber's writing seems to sum up Karen's gentle spirit and respect for the natural world. Karen offered to loan me a particular book of Gladys Taber's, Another Path, published in 1963 after the death of her good friend Jill. The book is Gladys' (I feel as if she is so familiar, like an old friend, that I can call her by her first name) personal and intimate journey through her grief. In one part of the book, the author refers to Jill's death as her "storm." Wise as always, Gladys allows herself to grieve but also works through her grief, letting go of the wishes about what could have been and mourning the life with Jill that was now left behind. Change is inevitable, she asserts, and we must accept it, while still acknowledging and appreciating those things unchanged -- love, a new day, the passing of the storm to sunshine once again. My grief since my mom passed away has seemed like a storm at times or, at the very least, a dark night. But, like each new day, light slowly makes its presence on the horizon and, like Gladys, I am beginning to see the light of all that is truly everlasting.