When Joy and Grief Reside in the Same Moment...

The rarity of the day is not lost on me. Snow days are so alien to us Utahns. Not snow falling, but snow falling to the degree that life is cancelled.

I believe 8 inches overnight did the job of creating either chaos or peace depending on the observer...for me, peace.

I'm in my spot. It's quiet. It's peaceful except for the occassionnal gust of cold caused by a certain 7 year old opening the sliding glass door for permission to use another receptacle for snow play or the relaying of information that in the dog's playfulness, he caused unwanted "injury.

Amongst this peacefulness - joyfulness at the sheer amount of fluffiness present on the ground, I am grieving.

The call came yesterday in which my dad's prognosis was relayed through tears via my sister. "Not good" are the two words that sum up the gravity of it all.

He's been invincible my whole life whether in a healthy or unhealthy sense. He has never been defined by weakness, exhaustion or pain. Not because those words never could describe him, but because He refused to allow them a home in his vocabulary. They are the equivalent of heresy to him.

It's as if the world has tilted a bit in which such a phenomenon could occur. I'm not sure that it will compute in my brain. A language I have never learned and therefore will never understand.

Fluffy white snow, silence, peace, confusion, uncertainty, grief (and a little bit of joy due to the laughter I hear emanating from outside) can reside in the same moment. I am proof of it.