Years vanish. Months collapse. Time is like a tall building made of playing cards. It seems orderly until a strong gust of wind comes along and blows the whole thing skyward. Imagine it: an entire deck of cards soaring like a flock of birds.~Dani Shapiro 

A long time ago, I stood in the home goods section at Walmart. The in-laws were coming to visit and stay with my family. The girls would give up their bedroom, and the grandparents would brave the trundle bed. New sheets were in order. I didn't have much money to spend, but settled on the nicest sheets that Walmart sold, the pattern in the fabric a subtle, lavender Swiss dot. Yesterday I took that same cloth, now splattered with green paint, and covered my current husband's Vespa. The sheet had outlasted a marriage, and survived longer than the lives of those grandparents who had once lain on that Swiss-dotted cotton. And their son, the father of those little girls, gone now too. 

Life is fragile. We don't talk about that much in our culture. We think we'll live forever. Yet when the gusts of loss interrupt our denial, our structure, we are faced with reality. Grief is exhausting, even when it co-exists with promise. My first husband and I had not been together for over twenty years when he died, yet I've been pummeled with memories of him. The way we'd savor breakfast dates, sitting in a Wisconsin diner, drinking cup after cup of coffee. Our bright yellow car that we drove way too long. Our rental house on the Oregon coast. 

I have to sit down into this grief. Let it be okay to sit on the bench for as long as I need. Allow the fragility. 

Recently, the girls and I collectively sat down into our grief and our memories, years of their childhoods vanished--both now beautiful, empowered women that are so strong and valiant it takes my breath away. Our time together reflected a day with blue sky like fresh paint, the Carolina heat diminished. We talked of their dad. And we spoke of our lives. Our plans. Our dreams. Still braving it this side of eternity. We laughed together so exuberantly, the table of women sitting close by turned our way and smiled, a longing on their faces to be with us.