
🌅 The Funeral Home
Today, Bryce and I went to the funeral home.
We picked up the death certificates. We brought Mark home.
They handed him to us in a black box placed inside a small tote bag.
So ordinary. So final.
It’s strange how something as enormous as a person’s life can be carried in your hands.
Bryce wants to buy an urn—something he can paint himself and keep close.
But for now, Mark remains in the black box.
Simple. Quiet. Heavy in more ways than one.
🙏 Healing After Loss
After we returned home, I opened Healing After Loss.
Today’s reading said:
“The sky is the daily bread of the eye.”
And I instantly thought of Mark.
He loved the sky.
Sunsets. Sunrises. Stars and planets. Eclipses and meteor showers.
He had a passion for astronomy and was always taking photos—especially of sunsets over Flathead Lake.
He said that’s when he felt most at peace.
Maybe that’s where I’ll look for him now.
In the deep blues before dawn.
In the fire-orange brush of evening light.
In the silent glow of stars that never stop shining.
He’s not just in the box we carried home.
He’s in the sky that fed his soul.
He’s in the beauty he never stopped noticing.
And I will keep looking up.
—Dyan
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