Here, on the pulse of this new day You may have the grace to look up and out And into your sister’s eyes, and into Your brother’s face…And say simply Very simply With hope — Good morning. – Maya Angelou
This is the closing stanza of Maya Angelou’s On the Pulse of Morning which she read at the inauguration of President Clinton in 1993. I traveled on a Greyhound bus from Michigan to DC to attend. In my mind, I was living a line from a Simon and Garfunkel song as the moon rose over open fields as we travelled. A friend and I stood shoulder to shoulder with the masses, looking up and listening to these words on that cold morning.
In 2001, Doug and I were lucky to take part in the pomp of inaugural balls. We laughed at my Texas-sized hair after a salon appointment. He looked so handsome in his tux, just as he did at our wedding a few years before. We were young and in love and so full of hope.
The terrorist attacks of 9/11 happened later that year. A nation mourned as family members and friends were lost in such an unimaginable way. On this inauguration day, 20 years later, over 400,000 people have lost their lives to COVID-19 in this country alone. Millions more are grieving.
Grief forces one’s gaze elsewhere. It is so much easier to turn inward instead of outward, to look down instead of up. The risk of further loss should you dare to dream again is almost to great. Almost.
There is no gesture grand enough to take away grief. But there are repeated small acts of love and kindness that allow enough hope in to make it bearable. One can grieve, and one can hope, and maybe healing happens wishing another well with a simple and heartfelt Good Morning.
Grief, Reflected 