Musing on a morning of reflection

Tomorrow is the anniversary of my fathers passing.  He passed a month before my son.
My brother went to Arlington to pay his respects.  I will pay mine from here.

I am grappling with a word right now.  The word is suicide.  I am working to take it's power away.
And to accept what is.  It is a loaded word.
I have been painting and writing a book of my healing journey.  It has been a positive process.  I read the words I have written, there is much that isn't said.  But there is much that is.  My idea for the book is that it is a picture book with words that go with it for adults.  For me.  One thing I remember is I could not focus for long on a book on anything, grief, healing, prayers, it had to be short, simple and not complicated.  My emotions were on overload, I could only take so much in.  So my book is a picture book of my art.  That tells my story.

My personal journal tells the story.  I write notes and letters to my son.  I used to write them everyday.  I would come home from work and write him a letter.  I write letters to people that I am working to find peace with.  I write with less frequency, not really the best thing for me, but I am aware of that.

Usually I write the letters after I have had an intuition or moved to a place of tenderness or forgiveness, for myself and that person.  Usually that happens after I have been in a kundalini yoga class and meditated and chanted and been lifted up spiritually.  My heart open, my consciousness open I let go of something that I don't need to hold on to anymore.
It comes down to forgiveness work.
I am in a daily practice of forgiveness.  When I do this practice, I find myself to be a little lighter.
I am forgiving myself and others.