Tell It To The Bees.

My sister in law has passed this week. I thought for a long time about whether I would talk about it in this blog, or even post today at all.

She was very close and my own grief is difficult to bear. The grief of my wife and the rest of her blood kin is too much to be told, but never the less we must continue.

She is to be waked today and in the quiet hours before getting ready, I must delve into these writings to keep myself occupied.

I would go into the details of her life and the manner of her death, but just now it is too painful to relate and too far beyond the scope of this narrative.

However, there is an old Irish custom. When there is a death, you must tell the bees. If the bees are not properly put into mourning along with the rest of the household, they may die, or stop giving honey, of flee the hive. It is as important to your household to allow all of its members to go through the process along with you as it is for you yourself.

Herself and I no longer have bees, and there is no tradition that I know of for telling your chickens. Never the less I have informed the flock. They are still giving eggs and going about their business, but in case they notice the change in me, they will understand why.

What is the measure of the lives that touch you? What is the measure of the lives that you touch? I can never measure the importance of one life over another ... each in their own way I am touched by it all. My heart sings with the sheer joy of it that my life has been touched ... forever changed ... by all of the life in it. Even in facing death, that relationship does not end, but it is merely different now.

I congratulate my sister in law on the completion of a successful life. How do I know it was successful? She loved and is loved. There is no greater mark of success.