Thanks to a recommendation by my dear friend, Kay, I am reading A Restless Spirit: The Story of Robert Frost by Natalie S. Bober. Have you ever read something that reached back into your own past? I just did, and not for the first time. This is from chapter 6, after both Frost’s son and mother have died, and he is merely existing, not living. (Elinor is his wife, Lesley is his daughter.)
Elinor watched as the pasture spring was cleaned. Rob took little Lesley on his shoulders to show her the budding leaves and flowers. Slowly he began to assume his responsibilities. His anger, his resentment, his feeling of hopelessness were disappearing. He had “chosen life.”
In the distant past, I lost. My mother died right before Christmas, in 2001. I faded. I existed. But slowly life, and love, called me back. I chose life. Every Christmas the emptiness returns. It’s been 13 years since I’ve said Merry Christmas with a truly happy heart.
I didn’t mean to end this on a melancholy note. Sandy Hook is on my mind again. And there are others. Pray. Pray for those who hurt.