The Hardest Part

There was so much on the trip, which I finished yesterday, that Joanne would have found meaningful; the service for Allan, Bonnie's church in Evanston, long visits with Gerry, a few hours with Nelson and Shirley, her sister's 50th wedding anniversary party, barbecue at her niece', the beautiful sunset as we approached home.  It was a very significant trip that I'm glad to have done. With it all, the hardest for me, was not being able to talk to her about it.  That is the reality of life in the land of grief.

Takk for alt,

Al
Let Evening Come
by Jane Kenyon

Let the light of late afternoon
shine through chinks in the barn, moving
up the bales as the sun moves down.

Let the cricket take up chafing
as a woman takes up her needles
and her yarn. Let evening come.

Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned
in long grass. Let the stars appear
and the moon disclose her silver horn.

Let the fox go back to its sandy den.
Let the wind die down. Let the shed
go black inside. Let evening come.

To the bottle in the ditch, to the scoop
in the oats, to air in the lung
let evening come.

Let it come, as it will, and don't
be afraid. God does not leave us
comfortless, so let evening come.

Jane Kenyon, “Let Evening Come” from Collected Poems