This is part of an acrylic painting that I created in the last year. (Photo by Melissa F. Kaelin)

Smiling again!

The most poignant part of my summer occurred on a Sunday night, looking out bay windows onto the moonlit shore of Lake Superior.

Matt and I were curled up in front of a cozy fire over the hearth, and he looked at me — near to tears — and thanked me for my smile. In that tender moment, after a day of adventures on Minnesota's North Shore, my beloved admitted to me that he once feared he would never again see me smile.

But there I was, smiling! Not just any tooth-bearing grin, but instead a naturally-occurring and genuine expression of happiness.

And guess what? I am still smiling!

So after these many months I have spent staring into the depths of my subconscious, let me share with you some lightness of spirit, and something to make you smile.

"The Way"
In some Buddhist circles, it is called the "Tao," the path of life that is in harmony with the natural order of the world.

For me, experiencing nature and being in harmony with the world around me have been central to recovering from my grief. That's not to say that I don't have bad days anymore, because I do.

"Brings life to a field"

It is not possible to complete yourself
without sorrow.

Sorrow is the vital ingredient that shapes
the heart and enriches it.

So endure sadness the best you can
when its season comes.

That rain that can fall from your eye
brings life to a field,

and on other days when you laugh,
a sun takes birth in a sky you will
someday know.

See how all the elements are inside of
you.

See how your soul is a sire of light.

~ Hafiz

Bouquet Charms

A charm on my wedding bouquet cherishes the memory of my twin brothers, who died at age 13, with the initials of their first names surrounding by blue hearts.

I miss you, Mom

It has been three months since I last posted to this blog, and it feels as if many lifetimes have passed before my eyes in the time since then.

I stopped writing at about the same time that I started going to counseling at the Centers for Grief in St. Paul, Minnesota. On an ordinary day in May 2012, I walked into a counseling appointment, looked at my new therapist, and said quite simply, "It's too much!" Then burst into tears.

The summer that followed my first counseling encounter was at times exhausting, at times eye-opening, and at times rejuvenating. It was marked simultaneously by the personal challenges that existed all around me, by the warmth of the new people in my life, and by the unfailing love of my new husband, Matt.

On missing my mother...

I cannot begin to count the moments when I have felt my mother's absence this year. Even the simple things, such as picking up my cell phone and passing her name on my contacts list, knowing that she will no longer answer the phone, have been indescribably hard.