Sun Days

The day after Maxwell died, we found two "suns" taped to our back door window.

Jennilyn caught the anonymous neighbor almost immediately, but didn't share who it was.

For four weeks, every morning, we were greeted with another sun, another quote/comment/excerpt.  Some were very religious, some were silly, some were philosophical.  I didn't keep track of their order, though you can find the hand-written first one, way down at the bottom of the pictures.

Some days, I'd come home from work, and walk past all of the cheery suns.  But most days, I'd stop, read the new one, look back at some of the others.  I would pause a moment to soak up the smiley illustrations with the real surges of grief still churning around me.  Like turning my face to the warmth of sunshine while standing with my feet in the cold ocean.  Even today, almost two months later, when I read through the quotes, I feel myself start to tear up. 

Actually, when I start to drift into despair, and feel disconsolate, I've come back to these little suns, and read them.  Especially while listening to our favorite song find from Brother-in-law Bob, it has been an ongoing balm.

It was a beautiful act of love and kindness.  It was consistent, simple, earnest, true.

We are grateful for all of the outreach we've received.  It has all helped.

It still hurts to have Max be gone.  But every sunrise is another reason to smile.  Even if the sunrise is taped to our back door.

Thank you.