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