I've learned how to cry
after fifty-three years,
to find hope in the catch of my throat.
Used to rein them in,
deny them due course;
embrace as purification.
Love swells, expands,
with time bubbles into laughter
and stories reminisced,
occasional tear traces curve of cheek
which with fingertip
and press to my lips.
by Margaret Bednar, November 17, 2018
Rest in Peace, Grandpa Bednar. My father-in-law passed away early this morning - on the same day his beloved mother died. I like to think she was calling her dear son home.
Here is a place I could easily ponder hope and replenish my soul: