"When I count my blessings, I count you twice."  Irish saying

 I left in the golden hour
 the air felt golden, the afternoon October light was on everything I passed,
 a loving light.
 the earth felt golden.

 I don't ask God why you are gone.
 as you would say, "why do people blame God,"
 we all must die.
 our bodies were created to live and to die.

   I still ask every day,
   where are you now?
   how can I see you again?
   how can I get in touch with you?
   I pray for an answer.

    Amen.