I feed my sorrows to the fire.
Last January I lost my beautiful son, William. My daughter Anna lost her beloved brother; their mother, Laura, lost her younger child; our families lost a precious part of who we are, who we have been, and all that we could have become.
The loss is bottomless, unfathomable. It is a dark well where my heart is cast down. What suspends the hopeless tumbling is my work before the fire. Working with fire these past months has saved my life, perhaps; certainly it has preserved my life’s equilibrium. The flames purify my grief.
Build a fire; stare into the flames, feel its heat on your face. Let it dry your eyes.