A few months after he passed away, someone in a very different context told me the rug had been pulled out from under his feet. I nearly exploded with anger. His rug was something small and inconsequential. In that moment, I realized that there is no proverbial rug under our feet. And on that day, I became my own rug, and no one can ever pull it out from under me again.
Over the years, I sent bits of this, or the whole thing to different people, and kept being told I should publish. I didn’t. I was chicken.
Then I decided to. It was time. It is time. And this is continuing to help me, and I hope it will help you. We never completely lose the people we have lost – no matter how we lost them. And while I wrote this because of a loss, there are many other tragedies and losses that people go through, without asking for them. We all, at one time or another, have to learn to live again.
The words are mine; the art is from my past and current life, and match so beautifully, that when I found them, that sealed the deal.