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dreamprayact

~ Reflections of a preacher, poet, and contemplative activist

dreamprayact

Tag Archives: death

Blessing While Searching for Home

26 Monday Jul 2021

Posted by mark lloyd richardson in grief, Reflections

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

blessing, death, dying, grief, home, refuge, sanctuary, shelter, trust

Dallis on Hanalei Beach, Kauai (2017)

Blessing While Searching for Home

When we fell in love
it was a long and lovely fall
tumbling heart first
into a trust so deep and wide
neither of us recognized it at first.

Here where the soul is bare
and unashamed
and caught off guard 
by the beauty of another
we discovered home
for the first time in our lives.

It is not to be taken for granted –
this serendipity of finding
what we knew our souls needed
but had never been able to find –
a shelter from the storm,
a refuge amid life’s troubles,
a sanctuary of healing grace.

Your dying
shook the foundations
of this home we fashioned
out of love and sweat
and laughter and tears.

Now many questions travel with me
in this liminal territory I’ve entered –
where am I to turn for shelter,
how will I recover a sense of home,
how do I cultivate a circle of trust,
how does one pray with a heart bereft,
how do I travel this long, lonely road?

Travel with me, sweetheart.
Please, I pray, travel with me,
as I wait for answers 
and go in search of them.

Travel with me, sweetheart,
and in the traveling
hold these questions with me
until a new dawn arrives.

Travel with me
and be home for me,
and in the sweet mystery of love
be home with me.

Mark Lloyd Richardson
July 27, 2021

Let the birds sing

24 Wednesday Mar 2021

Posted by mark lloyd richardson in grief, Reflections

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

courage, death, grace, grief, healing, holy, joy, Listening, morning light

Let the birds sing
in early morning light

Let breezes sweetly whisper
through the trees at midday

Let clouds drift lazily
across a buoyant spring sky

Let the sun’s brilliance
gild rugged hillsides nearby

And let it all remind me
that this day is holy

Let friends call
and listen tenderly to my pain

Let strangers offer
a kind word or gesture

Let hours pass
and leave no trace of regret

Let this day unfold
with a gentleness born of grace

And let it all remind me
that this day is holy

There is no denying
this world looks different to me now
my future blurred by uncertainty
love’s healing work barely begun
and the cruel finality of death
no longer merely an idea

But let the birds sing in the morning
let friends be present by my side
let moments of contentment quietly come
let memories wash over me like a balm
let joy one day follow these days of mourning
let healing imperceptibly take root and grow

And let it all remind me
if I have the courage to see it
that this day indeed is holy

~ Mark Lloyd Richardson

A world ended on this day

19 Friday Mar 2021

Posted by mark lloyd richardson in grief, Reflections

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Blessings, death, empathy, grief, loss, mortality, trauma, vulnerability

A world ended on this day

January 27, 2021

I didn’t truly understand before
how deep loss can pull you under
how traumatic death can feel
how it ends a world

I knew that death was profoundly painful
for the ones left behind
I knew it was life-altering
I knew it was accompanied by many tears
and heart-stopping screams in the night
and even cursing of the darkness
but I didn’t really understand

I knew that life is fragile
that our days are not guaranteed
that while we bear the divine image
we live in mortal bodies
and that it can all end in an instant

I knew that I wanted to show others empathy
that I wanted to accompany them in their pain
and that because of my calling 
I was a visible reminder of the holy
whenever I visited the dying or grieving
but I didn’t really understand

A world ended for me this day

January 27, 2021

While the world around me carried on
as though nothing had happened
my world collapsed
it burned itself out
it shut itself down
it ended

My world was you and me
in all the sacred messiness of our relationship
in all the hopefulness for life yet to be lived
in all the simple joys of faithful companionship
in all the blessings of traveling this road together

Then in a moment it was gone

And I finally began to understand

Had I tried to imagine the searing pain
the throbbing heartache
the sickening permanency
that accompanies such a loss
I doubt I could have

Empathy only reaches so far

So here I am
wounded
disoriented
vulnerable
frightened
alone

A world ended for me this day
It was the world with you, my beloved, in it

~ Mark Lloyd Richardson
March 18, 2021

Morning memory

16 Tuesday Mar 2021

Posted by mark lloyd richardson in grief, Reflections

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

death, dying, grief work, love, marriage, memory

Photo credit: Sallie Woodring

In the morning
as you cautiously rise
from your side of the bed
I am there.

I am waiting
hoping
it has been a restful night. 

You are out of breath
from the simple act of sitting up. 
You are tired
in more ways than anyone can know.

Yet your smile reaches out
and melts me.
Will I remember
the feeling
of this moment?

Memory is imperfect
when up against the complex beauty
of a human soul.
Memory only goes so far
and then you want nothing less
than to be in the presence again
of the one you love.

You are sitting there
on your side of the bed
and motion me to come near.
The nearness
is the most comforting
to you
as well as me.

You lean forward
placing your head against my chest
and rest
and breathe
quietly
prayerfully
beautifully

and then
you raise your head
and look into my eyes
and I into yours
and without words
we are reassured
love is here.

Our vows
till death do us part
will soon reach their consummation
and yet love only increases
and mystifies me
in its tenacious hold over me.

You are the rest of me
you said to me more than once
and I truly believe it
for in those eyes
I get lost
in you
for all time.

~ Mark Lloyd Richardson
For my beloved Dallis
March 16, 2021

An Agreement (to get through this day)

05 Friday Mar 2021

Posted by mark lloyd richardson in grief, Reflections

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

affections, commitment, death, grieving process, love, memories, mortality, will to live

Dal and I in Santa Fe, New Mexico, November 2018


Let us be in agreement that death is a thief 
that robs us of what we most cherish. 

It may be the natural passage from this human life,
it may be what is expected out of this crash course we call living,
it may be the final remedy for being chronically mortal,
but it robs us, nonetheless.

Let us be in agreement that death does not treat us kindly.

It creates a gaping hole in our lives that cannot be filled,
it turns us inside out and upside down in our grief,
it brings us to our knees where we can only beg for mercy,
and it stings with deadly force.

Let us be in agreement that death takes no prisoners.

It causes us to question the worth of our own lives,
it guilts us into wondering why we live when our loved one does not,
it menaces us with our own imminent demise,
and it cares not at all about trampling on our will to live.

Yet let us also be in agreement
that death can never have the last word.

It cannot sever love’s bonds forged through unbroken daily loyalties,
it cannot break apart the commitments we have made to one another,
it cannot steal our memories of our beloved’s beautiful being,
it cannot annul our deep affections for the one we have loved and lost,
it cannot silence the resilient song of love in our hearts,
it cannot prevent us from choosing to love still.

Even though it hurts beyond imagining,
death does not have the final word –
love is stronger than death!

~ Mark Lloyd Richardson
March 5, 2021

The sting of death

26 Friday Feb 2021

Posted by mark lloyd richardson in grief, Reflections

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

death, end of life, grief, life after loss, one flesh, woundedness

Tomorrow will be one month since Dal died. In all of our nineteen years together we were never apart for more than two weeks. This is our longest separation and it’s only going to grow longer. I cannot make sense of it. I appear to be alive – I’m breathing by some miracle, I’m seeing friends and talking to people, I’m walking the dog, I’m eating occasionally, although I’ve lost twenty pounds – yet I don’t feel very alive. Contrary to the Bible, death does in fact sting! Not only does it sting, but it renders the one left behind feeling mortally wounded.

Dal and I talked about the end of life sometimes, and we always agreed that we needed to go out together because neither of us could imagine life without the other. We understood the foolishness of this thinking, of course; nonetheless, it was our way of naming how deeply connected we felt to one another, as though we were one flesh. Indeed, we were, and that flesh has been torn asunder.

The reality is, as I sit here in this home we created together, as I contemplate this life we built together, as I recall the future we dreamt of together, it all keeps coming back to this – I don’t know how to live in this world without her, not really. I can’t see the way forward. I can’t imagine ever feeling whole again. Often, I’m not even sure I have the desire to live. What’s the point? This is not me being suicidal. It’s me plumbing the depths of my grief where my desire to live lies beaten and bloodied, struggling to get back up. 

The only thing to do

18 Thursday Feb 2021

Posted by mark lloyd richardson in grief, Reflections

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

death, devotion, grief, loss, sorrow

There is no adequate consolation right now
There is no this is going to get better
There is no lessening of the sorrow
I cannot see the path forward
Only darkness, nothingness
I see no future
No home for me
Not without my beloved
Though I am told there is one

I am also told she lives now in my heart
Or that she lives on in the memories we made
Or that she will always be with me in spirit
None of which is enough right now
I want her
Her body, her mind, her sprightly spirit
Only her presence soothes me
Only she gives a day meaning beyond itself

Being a partner with her in life meant everything
She was my safe harbor in the storm
She knew me better than anyone ever has
She loved me fiercely in spite of my shortcomings
She was protective of me and of our love
She spoke so endearingly to me and about me
In the absence of these, who am I

Most of all she made my heart sing
Especially watching her love this life
A life we were creating together
And seeing her revel in genuine friendships
And laughing with such ease
And appreciating the small gifts hidden within each day
And hearing her tender words to me
And tasting her sweet lips
And feeling her body next to mine
There is no consolation for losing these things
There is no adequate measure to the loss I feel

In the meantime,
I will get up in the mornings as best I can
I will look for life wherever I can find it
If only for you, sweetheart
I will remember our devotion to one another
I will not lose sight of how deeply you loved me
I will grieve, and then grieve some more
It is the only thing to do
It is the only thing
You, Dally, make my heart sing
Though for now the song is awash in tears

~ Mark Lloyd Richardson

A letter to my love

11 Thursday Feb 2021

Posted by mark lloyd richardson in grief, Reflections

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

death, dying, grief, love, marriage, peace

Dallis & I on the Big Island November 2014
(Photo: Wendy Granger)

My dear Dallis,

Sweetheart, I know I told you as you were dying that everything would be okay … that I would be okay … but it was a lie. I don’t like lying to you and I didn’t intend to do so; I was just trying to convince myself, and I was telling you what I thought you needed to hear so that you could let go and be released from a body that was failing you. But now I am utterly heartbroken. I feel completely lost without you. I want so badly to hear your voice again. I want to kiss your lips. I want to hold you and be held by you.

What touched my life so thoroughly during our love affair and marriage is how you would look at me with such affection in your eyes it melted my heart. You brought me to tears so many times just by being honest with me about how you felt. We told each other our deepest truths. We relied on one another to always care most about the other. 

I can’t believe how lucky I was to have you in my life for nineteen years. If I had known sooner that our time together was nearing the end, I would have stopped working earlier and devoted all my time to you … to us! I would have reveled all the more in your smile and laugh. I would have asked you to tell me more about the greatest joys of your life, all the way back. I would have wanted to watch your New Zealand slides with you, and have you regale me about that favorite adventure of yours, years before we met.

I would also have wanted to hear more about the places of pain and disappointment in your life, many of which I know about and others I imagine were left unsaid.

This grief hurts beyond imagining. I feel like I’m dying inside. I struggle just to do the simplest things and get through each day.

I wish there was a way to communicate with you, my beloved. I write these thoughts I’ve been thinking and wish I could get this message to you. You were the very one I needed in my life. You cheered my successes, savored our relationship, and gave me every bit of yourself to love and enjoy. You were my anchor, my safe haven, my source of lightheartedness and joy. 

I’m trying to figure out how to live without you near to me, your physical presence that is. I have never been through more painful days than these. A heavy sadness follows me everywhere, even to sleep. Nothing in my life experience compares to this aching I feel in body, mind and spirit.

Dallis, my beautiful one, it is my deepest hope that you are where there is no more pain and no more crying, and where you know deep and abiding peace. I also hope to see you often in my dreams.

You will always have my love,

Mark

Ashes

18 Wednesday Feb 2015

Posted by mark lloyd richardson in Poems, Reflections

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Ash Wednesday, Confession, death, Lent, new creation, reconciliation, salvation, spiritual wholeness

ash
Ashes
earthy gray
dry as parched wilderness
symbol that we too shall perish

Dust to dust
ashes to ashes
each of us makes our humble return
back to the habitat of our origins

All that is false is allowed to die –
misguided allegiances
harmful compulsions
lingering resentments
ego-driven agendas –
dead on the ash heap of confession

Only then is there a new beginning
a reconciling
a turning toward wholeness
a desiring for God

Finally in the fullness of time
the desert blooms again
salvation comes
life triumphing over death.

Words (c) Mark Lloyd Richardson, 2015

On the sabbath they rested

07 Saturday Apr 2012

Posted by mark lloyd richardson in Reflections

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Christ's passion, death, grief, Holy Week, peace, redemption, sabbath

The Gospel of Luke tells us that after the crucifixion of Jesus a good and righteous man named Joseph of Arimathea went to Pilate to ask for Jesus’ body. Joseph then took the body of Jesus down from the cross, wrapped it in a linen cloth, and laid it in a rock-hewn tomb where no one had ever been laid. The women who had come with Jesus from Galilee and had watched the crucifixion from a distance, followed Joseph and saw the tomb and how Jesus’ body was laid. However, because the sabbath was beginning, they returned to where they were staying and prepared spices and ointments for later.

Then the text reads, “On the sabbath they rested according to the commandment” (Luke 23:56b).

I find myself wondering what that sabbath felt like to those who loved Jesus and had witnessed his cruel death.

What are the emotions you and I feel as we hear the story of Christ’s Passion told again during this Holy Week?

What do we do with ourselves following Jesus’ death?

Where do we find “rest” on the sabbath?

Here is a poem I wrote touching on these questions.

On the sabbath they rested

The room where lost dreamers came
in search of repair and a promised peace
looked like any other ancient room,
windows open and chanting to the sky,
walls thick with the prejudice of time,
echoing the desolation of unwelcome grief.

An ageless question hung in the air –
What awaits us between hopefulness and uncertainty?

We cannot know.

So for now we lie down among broken bodies,
we take our rest beside other ragged souls
who rummage around for redemption,
who long for peace in a world at war with itself.

Words (c) 2012 Mark Lloyd Richardson
Photo (c) 2012 Dallis Day Richardson 

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