My favorite place to be is near any body of water. As soon as I see the horizon of blue, my body instantly settles and my anxieties feel insignificant. How ironic that my favorite place to be is also the place my Dad took his last breath. Was there something about the Bluffs that brought you back to yourself, Daddy? Was that your safe haven in the chaos? When everything felt like it was falling apart and there was no resolution in sight, is that the place your mind instantly thought to go to? Maybe if the water was the place you found yourself, maybe you needed it to be the place where you lost yourself too? I hate thinking of your last breath in that cold November water. Did you try screaming for help or did you let yourself fade away? Did you fight when the water overtook your lungs or did life steal all the fight you had left? I'll never know exactly how your last days on this earth ended. But I know you spent your last minutes in that water. Sacred, holy water. There's symbolism in that I think. That the place that can heal is also the place that steals and destroys. How ironic that water has all that power. Sacred, holy water.
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AuthorRecent Brock Graduate and First Year Teacher! I love to talk about life, justice and faith. Archives
March 2023
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