She wasn’t a dear friend of mine, but she was the dearest friend of a dear friend. Today, she has been gone 730 days. Two years. I feel the loss mostly through the eyes and heart of my friend.
I watched this woman endure the suffering that accompanies loss. And I see in her eyes an awareness, a deepness of soul, that is that gift none of us really want. Yet, if you could see in her eyes, that deepness of soul is indescribably beautiful. The gift she didn’t want has become so much, so much beyond herself, so soft, so downy and tender. It extends to me, and to all she touches.
When something is pulled away, we feel a particular motion. A sickness of center. Spiritual vertigo. Tears that go sideways. Clouds that seem under us as well as inside our very skin. Our fingers clutch and grip and cling until that last shred of control is over….our last breath of holding on is over. And then…the washing.
I saw her grieve as she said goodbye. I listened to her grieve as she remembered. I witnessed her grief as she honored by loving. And I celebrate her grief as it transforms into ministry.
Today, she is willing. Willing to walk alongside others as they grieve, twist, struggle and grow. Humbled and surprised by the Calling she has heard .
I’m not surprised. I watched you. And I love you, dear friend.