A Book of Dawn Get link Facebook X Pinterest Email Other Apps June 11, 2022 “Always give without remembering and always receive without forgetting.”― Brian TracyMy sister-in-law, Frankie Flexter, created this beautiful book for our Cynthia Dawn. Get link Facebook X Pinterest Email Other Apps Comments Sherry Blue SkyJune 11, 2022 at 7:20 PMHow beautiful and precious. She shines on every page.ReplyDeleteRepliesReplyAdd commentLoad more... Post a Comment
Confetti of Magic October 11, 2024 We were four souls in a U-Haul watching snowflakes dance across the windshield. Change doesn’t often provide confetti, but on that winter night my husband, two small daughters, and myself were given the gift of magic that glittered us into a bond that could never be broken. With goodbye still stinging our lips we felt like the only ones the moon had forgotten as the truck’s headlights struggled to give us eyes in the blizzard. Out of the crackle of the dashboard radio words sang, “You have to believe we are magic nothin' can stand in our way”. In that moment Oliva Newton John gave us our hope song, our love song, our family song, our forever song. On an icy Missouri road mapped with a journey to Texas “Magic” told us it would keep us whole even when grief would leave us broken. ©Susie Clevenger 2024 Cynthia Dawn took her last breath to the song "Magic" on January 26th, 2022...the magic continues What's Going On? ~ Magic Read more
Does Grief Have a Map July 17, 2024 My daughter, Cynthia Dawn and her fiancé, Daniel Daniel Bobby Blanchard JUNE 19, 1974 – SEPTEMBER 22, 2019 Cynthia Dawn Clevenger February 21, 1974 – January 26, 2022 Your faces sit in every room except the place where I sleep. In that place of dreams, you visit me where impossible has no chair. Daylight so often has me standing before your photographs never certain if I will cry or smile, or attempt to hear you speak from ink trapped beneath glass. I drift between memories and present wondering if I’m losing my mind. Does grief have a map to guide me back to whole? Each day is an envelope I must open, a letter telling me you’re no longer here. Perhaps being strong is simply taking a step trusting I won’t fall. ©Susie Clevenger 2024 What's Going On? ~ Elegy Read more
Sermon From a Photograph December 12, 2024 Today’s sermon is tea too cold to thaw the wind that ruffles a buzzard’s feathers as it stares through my kitchen window daring me to deny mortality. Today’s sermon is the sound of a television in the other room providing sound to fill empty space. Today’s sermon is a sweatshirt that smells like my daughter, gray sleeves helping me feel what I can’t hold. Today’s sermon is a picture on a shelf where she smiles from a photograph urging me to keep my eyes on blue sky. ©Susie Clevenger 2024 What's Going On? ~ Today's Sermon Read more
How beautiful and precious. She shines on every page.
ReplyDelete