I also had a friendly connection with the local postal workers.
Then In 2002 I was asked to participate in the Rural Alliance of the Arts yearly fundraiser photographing local art for the silent auction. It was challenging and fun yet I couldn't bring myself to attend the actual event.
In hindsight I understand why things culminated the way they did.
Fade in later, our son was killed in Iraq while we were visiting family in Tennessee. The officers came to our door, then the post office and a few people began to notice.
We got the call on our deceased sons cell phone.
Such a fucked up time yet I can replay every moment of that call in my mind almost verbatim
My friends stepped up, the town rallied, the nation knew. I went through this period broken as did my family , I had no grace.
I had many failures but really.....who the fuck knows how to grieve???
How does one pick up shattered pieces of life and try to glue them back together?
A year later we moved north. We thought this was our forever place, where we would heal and family would thrive.
It wasn't that simple.