The Promise of Tomorrow

by Mary Ellen Taylor

The trick with grief was to outrun it. Never stop moving because it was always trailing close behind. Stop and think too long, and it would eat you right up. So, each day I kept moving until I was exhausted.

People came and went, time marched on, and the earth kept turning. All my worldly problems that I’d mentally etched in stone felt like a spectacular waste of time.

“The big takeaway is that peace is a journey, not a destination, or so I was told. It’s like a butterfly that flits in and out of our lives. Some energies attract the butterfly, and others chase it away. The trick is to notice when those fluttering wings appear because the butterfly never lingers very long.”

As Sylvia once said as she was folding up one of her dresses, “Money talks. Wealth whispers.”

“I am more comfortable with anger than fear. The anger permits moral outrage, and I can get a lot of work done when I’m juicing on fury. But fear is a different beast. It consumes and paralyzes me.”

Grief moves at its own pace, and sometimes it loops around and revisits its previous stops.”