Today marks one year since my mother’s brother died of a heart attack at age 51. My heart is aching today for my aunt and my cousin. I’m not sure why I’m writing about this on my blog, but I feel like I need to be reminded of how exposed and precious life is. I am thinking today about the frailty of life, the expedition of death, and the strength of love.

And I am clinging to this Eskimo proverb:

“Perhaps they are not stars, but openings in heaven where the love of our lost ones pours through and shines down upon us to let us know they are happy.”