the angels cry

Sitting at the back of the bus. Praying, thinking, remembering. Every seat filled. Others turned away and left to their own devices. A bus of sorrow. A final farewell to a friend. Looking out the window…numb. A year of too much death. A year of too much loss. A year of too much grief. This year seems endless. Much like my grief. Much like all of our grief. Only a beginning, never an ending. I don’t know anyone untouched by death this year. The sky turns gray. Windows streaked with rain. Souls streaked with tears. I hear a friend whisper “even the angels are crying”. Grief truly knows no limit.