on endings

when his young son was sick, the father sat in ashes and cried, ripped his clothing and wept. he left his being behind and suffered through the uncertainties of shadow. day in, day out. the uncertainties of shadow, and the alluring -- if slim -- possibility of yes. when his son died, he finally rose from the ashes and returned to his being. he returned now even to the joys of living. for with his son, the possibility of yes was finally buried. and from the shadow of unknowing he could finally return to life. sometimes, the closing of a 'maybe it's yes' to a harsh, but clear, 'it's definitely no' can revive the spirit and open its space of breath. yesterday, i sustained the painful end to a 'maybe it's yes.' in the 'no,' i now return to life.