This week, friends were lost.
And whether a long illness, or an act of senseless brutality, all losses are painful.
You weep, and flail against the silence. You gasp for air, and feel the bite of the bitter chill in your throat. You want to hold the pain close to you, knowing it is the last thing you will feel for that loss. You cling to the pain…until a moment slips in between the pain and doubt, and you find the strength to lift your head, breathe deep, and shake off the cold chill. You start to seek out the things you remember were always there to help you move on, or remind you of the good you once felt.
For me, it is the ocean. There is something magical about the ocean for me, whether it is because my father loved it so, or because I managed to find it on my own terms, it has always been a place of healing and renewal. I went to the coast this past week for a change of attitude. I went to breathe in the salt air, to remember old friends~ now gone, and to find new ones. Sometimes I have to stop and remind myself that I am my own best friend.
Here are the pictures of these past few days. It all started with a kite ~