We deal in fragments because we have little else. Some are beautiful, shining, concentrated; some are ever more striking than the imperfect whole. But precious fragments, delicate and unique, are fractured from her being every day. Broken off and discarded without her consent. We try to catch them desperately but they fall much faster than we can see, and land farther than we can reach.
I wrote this after my beloved grandfather passed away last year. He had a high-grade glioma (brain tumour) and died peacefully at home after being nursed by my mum for several weeks. After writing about him a little yesterday, I wanted to share. I cleaned out my grandparents’ garage today, to make room for my mother’s things– two double beds, bluish-black sofas, antique dresser units, all of the cumbersome kitchen essentials. I tried to be ruthless, without throwing away anything of importance. But is an old red petrol can not important, given the circumstances? Seven months ago he left, never
When you first discover something that excites you or makes you feel good, it’s perfectly normal to want everyone else to feel that way too. Whether it’s meditation, budgeting, running, religion, a new album, good coffee, clean eating or minimalism, it’s easy to become evangelical about it and to want to share the thing that is transforming your life with everyone else. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that–that’s how people discover new things, and make positive changes in their lives. That’s what I’m doing, in part, with this blog. But, while there will undoubtedly be some who jump on