Rio, go rest high on that mountain

I have struggled with how to write this post for 2 weeks.  I retired Rio’s gravatar on April 7.  This morning, I resurrected it.  Not seeing him did not lessen the grief, nor does seeing him make it harder.  I think it was more a symbolic tribute for me to retire his gravatar, and just as symbolic to determine to bring it back to his place as the face of Suzassippi.

These past 4 years, caring for Rio has been a profound joy, interspersed with episodes of sadness, like the past 4 years in general.  Rio maintained his grace in the face of profound change.  Dad is maintaining his grace in the face of profound change.  Sis maintains her grace in the face of profound change.  Mom always called me her changeling baby–the one the fairies leave when they steal your real baby.  (Yes, who knew that fairies went around stealing babies?)  I am reminded this moment of Anna Blake’s poem:

If this outlandish prairie, sun-burned and wind-scraped can show up every morning with a torrid definition of what an “earth-tone” looks like,

then claim this life deliberately with garish celebration; be no less than sunrise.