I feel this very strong and growing void inside me. It seems to bring my voice to its knees, like my thoughts have nowhere else to go and they die on my lips. Most days I try to ignore it, work through it, or I chalk it up to deep mourning. But it goes beyond that. I know it is something else. It feels like an ancient rage, a twisting fire that burns and wants to stretch out across vast lands but I keep it in check with sanitary living. It’s the force that makes me yearn to shout and sing into the skies and trees, or run and run until I collapse in a field of purple flowers. It’s the voice I know could open up the cosmos, if only I could find it and use it. And it’s not a void, really, but an immense cavern of blackness, the dark matter of the psyche, something that holds a profound truth that need only be unlocked, and yet, always present is the gripping fear that finding the key will unhinge me. Hmmm, so much for shiny happy things, eh? There’s something kind of perversely satisfying about certain kinds of pain, when you sink your teeth into it. It’s like cutting, or twisting off a loose tooth. This crazy inner thing that nudges me with its wet nose feels like Kullervo. It’s just a bitter, shapeshifting creature that’s forgotten how to dream and to love.

These thoughts remind me of a girl I’ve been very taken with over the years in reading her extraordinary story on her dad’s blog and book. Here’s a particularly poignant post and gallery of related photos, but I encourage you to read more about this amazing child and her struggles and triumphs.


Just so it’s not all sadness, here’s a link to how awesomely funny Rob can be:


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