October last year I was in New York City. In just a few days my grandpa would pass away. It would be the second death that year. It would round out the "year of loss" in the biggest way we never saw coming. I would return to Southern Utah. I would return to the graveyard. I would not say one word the whole drive to the cemetery from the funeral home.
Later, I would remember the strange run-in on the subway with a woman who sang to me one of my grandpas favorite songs. A warning? A premonition? Collective consciousness? A message?
Last October I could not pinpoint the what's or the why's. I kept trying. I dug deep.
I buried. I dug. I buried. I dug.
In the months to follow the metamorphosis was continuing, yet I was still running.
I was always running. Running to. Running from.
October this year I have no desire to run to, or run from. I am home. My world is in place. It took a long time to get here. It took a lot of work. A lot of patience. A lot of hearts shattered along the way.
But I am here.
I am whole.
I am calm.
No more running.
Thanks for reading