An Unfilled Wish, Restless Ashes, Love and Forgiveness

How to find love, peace and forgiveness

Unfulfilled wishes, restless ashes, guilt. I am so sorry. Please forgive me. I never scattered your ashes.

When does grieving cross the line from being excusable to disrespecting the dead? By disregarding your dying wish, they showed a complete lack of respect.

Absurd arguments. It didn’t matter what I said. Their reactions were predictably irritating, finding fault, relentless criticism and endless questioning.

Drama distractions. Because I chose self-peace over appeasing them.

Exhausted, I left guilt behind, closing the door on them.

They resented that I was no longer willing to ignore the issues, just to keep the peace.

Family estranged, bloodlines bleeding, transition underway.

I feel pain sore, shoulders, rib cage, back, as if my wings clipped I want to fly but my wings don’t work here, feel that dove you saw, can feel it flying the message. — Claire Kelly

A mourning dove’s coo floats into my morning meditation. I look up to see you perched on the lamppost and ask, do you bring peace?

Your presence is a reminder to trust the process. And convey a message from a departed loved one.

Memories awaken under the lamppost’s flickering glow. Within its circle centre is a portal—time travelling me to you.

I am seven.

My young heart races to hear your voice, but now, older and wiser, I hesitate.

Why sing this death farewell song for me now?

Goodbye Michelle, my little one You gave me love and helped me find the sun And every time that I was down You would always come around And get my feet back on the ground — Terry Jacks, Seasons in The Sun

Bittersweet, the lyrics shift me left — long past dead. I miss you, our seasons in the sun.

My heart is sick, pumping overtime to sustain others while keeping me alive, struggling to find the sun.

I am so tired.

A weeping willow offers a refuge. Dims the lamppost’s glow and empathizes with my tears concealed behind its branches swaying.

I am twelve.

Anticipate your praise after I hand over my straight As report card.

Did you know then that time was running out for you? Is this why you chose this moment to teach me a valuable life lesson?

But I was too young to grasp the deep significance of it all.

“If you do this for me, you do it for the wrong reasons. Please do it for you — not for me. I love you no less.”

Your words left me disheartened and disappointed — feeling betrayed.

Now, my eyes see, through people, the hidden truths of life lessons.

I am twenty-five.

Wrapped up in my world, I didn’t wait for your goodbyes as I rushed to class, work, or to meet up with friends.

Unaware of how bitterly cold winter can be when it reaches its darkest point.

My heart longed for one last goodbye from you.

Goodbye Michelle, it’s hard to die when all the birds are singing in the sky now that the spring is in the air with the flowers everywhere I wish that we could both be there — Seasons in The Sun

But I never felt you there—not that spring, summer, or following fall. By winter, your presence faded from my senses.

I felt lost in the deepest blue depths after losing our connection.

Why do I tell you this? Because you are always sitting in my heart. I long for our quiet connection, it calms me when I feel your presence. — Terry Pottinger

I am free.

Before you departed from this world, I remembered your words. A lock of hair holds one’s sacred essence.

All those years, my answer lay in a keepsake of your life, hidden in a heart locket.

My restless heart found a way to honour you and myself. I passed the locket to my daughter, who accompanied you home.

By the sea, she cradled your essence in her hands, cherishing the connection before blowing a kiss. She watched your graceful flight in the golden-hour evening sun above the sea glistening.

“Mom, the sea is crystal clear, like your eyes.”

And with those words, I see clearly.

I feel your presence there beside her and here, with me, silently by my side this whole time.

I am joy.

We had joy, we had fun we had seasons in the sun but the hills that we climbed were just seasons out of time — Seasons in The Sun

Between me, you and the lamppost, what is left to say? “My ashes were never intended to steal your joy. You’ve worn a purple thistle crown, far longer than you deserved, I felt your spirit breaking, shed tears with you.”

The hills reflected my growth and life lessons.

A reminder that joy can still exist despite the clouds.

I am so sorry, please forgive me. Thank you for the lesson. I love you. — Ho’oponopono Prayer

My healing prayer takes flight with the mourning dove. As a new season draws near, winter’s sleep transforms into spring’s reawakening.

Moonflowers speak the truth of spring’s hope my winter garden awakens at my feet, the first signs of spring snowdrops break through frozen ground, push through snow, bloom.

With heartfelt thanks to Claire Kelly for her guidance and her pub, Write Under The Moon.

Inspired by Debra G. Harman, MEd.’s Keepers of the Ash prompt.

© 10.03.2024, pockett dessert. All rights reserved. 🧿