Thoughts while Traveling

A lovely older woman that recently lost her husband after 30+ years keeps asking me questions about grief, I think to assure herself that it is in fact true: "normal" no longer exists in her world. I don't know much more than that, however I do believe I have come to that very conclusion in my own little corner.


Like I am some expert on the grieving process...as if it's the same for everyone.

Normal. That word even seems like a foreign language to me most days. It wasn't always...and I am certain the day and the hour when it was translated. When everything came crashing down. One has no choice in the matter to remain the same person they have always been, and for that matter I don't think a choice on who or what they morph into. I know I didn't. I feel as though I have lived two lives...each unique with their struggles, partners, desires, joys, and sorrows. Not much "feels" the same. Hell, even my hips are different (spread like butter, that is.)The second has the first beat in the sorrows department. Wonder if that will ever change. Maybe it has less to do with "morphing" and more to do with just aging. So much for "aging gracefully". That takes too much work...and THAT is for the birds, I say.

Ok. Enough of the morbid chatter. Sometimes morbid chatter is what you get with me, or I get with me. It always blows over. The rain doesn't help.

I have had this amazing spanish worship song in my head all day. I learned it while in Argentina. Sarah, if you don't know it, I should teach it to you. The melody is so simple, and so pretty.
I may not remember the spelling completely right, but it's something like this:

Tengo perfume que
solo es para ti
es mi alabanza
es mi adoración

No puedo mas ~ resistir este amor
que está dentro de mi corazón
recibe mi adoración