Years ago, during a period of grieving, I sent this excerpt from Mary Oliver’s poem “In Blackwater Woods” to my father:
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold itagainst your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.
Another period of grieving is upon us. When I read Mary Oliver’s words, my heart is momentarily lighter.