Letting Grief Happen

        For most of us, our parents are the first source of truly unconditional love. And oftentimes, they are the greatest source of all. Our mother and father welcomed us into this life, nurtured us when we were helpless, comforted us when we were sad, healed us when we were hurt, and taught us everything we needed to know in order to be mature, intelligent, respectable, kind, virtuous, decent, loving people. Nevertheless, it doesn't matter how mature we are or how old we get. Whenever anyone's parents pass away, the sorrow associated with losing those two unconditionally loving souls can be far too deep to name, and the grief can last for years, even decades. The tears will always be true, the painful feeling of loneliness will always be honest, and profound grief will always be sincere. The more you have loved your parents, the deeper the sorrow you will feel when they pass away. I have had to learn that whenever I suffer these overwhelming moments of tearful sorrow, I simply need to let go and let them happen, for as long as they need to happen. This is how I grieve the loss of my mother, who passed away on May 27, 2014, and my father, who passed away on February 1, 2015. And because I loved both of them very, very deeply, I am truly uncertain as to whether or not I will ever be able to mourn their passing without any overwhelmingly tearful grief. Ultimately, I must allow all of these waves of grief to move freely within my heart, and I must accept everything I feel, so that I may truly be healed.

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Compassion Capital

How can anyone find compassion
in a world where "love" is spelled "M" "O" "N" "E" "Y"?
Is there any hope in this miserably overcrowded place, any hope
for the lonely soul who has lost so many loved ones,
for the soul so alone in this world and
about to sorrowfully fall through the cracks?
Sometimes, you just don't know how you got here,
and you can't even tell where "here" is.
You could be poor, rich, or somewhere in between,
and the lonely solitude still hits you like a ton of bricks,
silently weighs down on your chest and
keeps you paralyzed for hours as you constantly ask yourself
where your life took that wrong turn.
And while you're still looking for at least one sincere friend,
everyone else is still looking for another paycheck,
another score in the hustle, another sucker to con,
as if dead presidents were the only people that really mattered.
They'll only have but so much compassion on any soul
if there are enough dead presidents in it for them.
And in the end, those very people will be so poor,
the only thing they'll ever have is a whole lot of money.
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It's easy to find friends in a place
where people are loved and things are used.
But how can you find any friends in a place
where things are loved
and people are
used?

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