Dear Friend -- living with the pain of loss
Happy birthday dear friend of my heart.
We met in our first year of schooling and loved each other immediately and unreservedly.
When
I think of you in those early years of our friendship. I think of your
bobby socks and the amazingly perfect sandwiches your mama made for your
school lunch every day.
I'd trade you one of mine for one of yours. The crusts always neatly trimmed. The bread and its contents redolent of love and the utmost care. A daily sacrament.
I remember how we wrote long love letters to one another. I have those letters still. Although I can't bear to look at them. Every letter of every word we wrote in a different colour. That's how much time and love we had for each other.
That never changed.
You alone would reach out to me when we were both struggling young mothers. You would ask how I was and really want to know. You would listen. With your whole heart.
Because my darling you were always ALL heart.
Thank you for gracing my life with the greatest gift we have to give as humans -- kindness.
Thank you for teaching me, even now...especially now, about love.
My heart is still in pieces, but I'm learning (very slowly) to live with the pain.
Pinned between my brother's birthday and yours I took myself to an embroidery workshop. I sat very quietly and sometimes found it difficult, but also soothing to try and stitch something beautiful. Tonight I sat with my daughter T, as you and Kat always called her, and we stitched together. I know that your lovely daughter is well loved, well cared for. But the pain runs so deep.
I've been longing to run off and live in the wild again. I've always wanted to. We spoke of it many times. We shared a passion for wandering the earth. For photography and meditation. For meaning.
Lynx is my new role model and I know you would love her too. In fact I see so much of you in her wisdom. Here she teaches me that community is also important, because my dear friend, since you died so suddenly, while here with me, I have been so alone. Unwittingly I tried to isolate myself from loving too much because this is the price we pay -- the pain of loss.
I listened to this podcast with my children recently and found it soothing, this lovely lad the same age as my two and your daughter soon enough, contemplates the mysteries of death --
Tai asks Why
It helps, as much as anything can.
I'm not sure why you came to spend your last 10 days with me. I know that I tried to prevent you. I know that we spoke late into those last nights. I know that we cried together and laughed together.
We walked hand-in-hand for the last time.
My sweet angel.
I miss you.
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We met in our first year of schooling and loved each other immediately and unreservedly.
 |
| In the Beginning - remembered at the end, in your funeral programme |
I'd trade you one of mine for one of yours. The crusts always neatly trimmed. The bread and its contents redolent of love and the utmost care. A daily sacrament.
I remember how we wrote long love letters to one another. I have those letters still. Although I can't bear to look at them. Every letter of every word we wrote in a different colour. That's how much time and love we had for each other.
That never changed.
You alone would reach out to me when we were both struggling young mothers. You would ask how I was and really want to know. You would listen. With your whole heart.
Because my darling you were always ALL heart.
 |
| Most loving mother |
Thank you for teaching me, even now...especially now, about love.
My heart is still in pieces, but I'm learning (very slowly) to live with the pain.
Pinned between my brother's birthday and yours I took myself to an embroidery workshop. I sat very quietly and sometimes found it difficult, but also soothing to try and stitch something beautiful. Tonight I sat with my daughter T, as you and Kat always called her, and we stitched together. I know that your lovely daughter is well loved, well cared for. But the pain runs so deep.
I've been longing to run off and live in the wild again. I've always wanted to. We spoke of it many times. We shared a passion for wandering the earth. For photography and meditation. For meaning.
Lynx is my new role model and I know you would love her too. In fact I see so much of you in her wisdom. Here she teaches me that community is also important, because my dear friend, since you died so suddenly, while here with me, I have been so alone. Unwittingly I tried to isolate myself from loving too much because this is the price we pay -- the pain of loss.
I listened to this podcast with my children recently and found it soothing, this lovely lad the same age as my two and your daughter soon enough, contemplates the mysteries of death --
Tai asks Why
It helps, as much as anything can.
I'm not sure why you came to spend your last 10 days with me. I know that I tried to prevent you. I know that we spoke late into those last nights. I know that we cried together and laughed together.
We walked hand-in-hand for the last time.
My sweet angel.
I miss you.
 |
| Jose & Rokela just days before the accident that claimed their lives. This was a good day. |
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