We clean up that farm boys room; because it is a mess.  Really.  All the rooms are a mess.  Clothes, papers.  Clutter.  Everywhere.  My cluttered home has seeped into my soul.  The clutter of grief and loss.  Daily consuming.  I fold a shirt.  It belongs to  the son who has left this earth.  I can feel the ache.  It has threatened to spill over all day.  The loss.  Another in the community has lost too.  Another accident.  One so young with 3 children.  And I just can't bear the ... View Post