Participating in an annual floating memorial with my grief community was overwhelmingly painful. As I watched my son's face float by attached to big paper boats I held my breath so my screams would stay in my throat. The roots of this weed went deep into my soul. I wanted to yank them out and run. What was suppose to be a loving, fun way to remember loved ones felt like an ocean of thorny weeds. I'm hoping one day this annual activity will grow into a lovely wildflower but for now it's rooted as a weed.
Floating Weeds and Wildflowers