Holiday grieving.

Every Easter, my father would work diligently on his "palm birds", a small handmade bird fashioned from the reeds of Palm Sunday mass, and mail one to me. I looked forward to this loving gesture every single year. My father's hands were huge, strong and always busy. To see him work with an 1/8 inch piece of palm reed and produce such a small miracle, would leave me in amazement and joy. This, along with so many wonderful, thoughtful gifts my father lovingly bestowed upon me, are all I have left to remind me of the great man that raised me. My father died on January 5th, 2008 and yet it sometimes feels that is has all been some weird nightmare; one which I pray that I would wake up from, but, never do. Grief is a hollow battle. The battle is never won nor lost. It merely rages on and on, with a respite now and then. Do not fear grief as it will then become a mortal enemy. Instead, challenge it everyday. Except what can not be explained in your heart as just that; we have all been there and the journey is a lonely path which we must  all travel alone. Take comfort in your efforts to move on; your loved one would want it that way. You will know when the time is right. I spent so many loving years with my father...just not enough days.









Author: Patricia A. Colucci "My Father's Straw Hat" Tate Publishing Available on Amazon.com A book on personal grieving resulting from the death of my father.