And also You.
You are the chosen ones.
You are the ones called home.
Emily and I were diagnosed at almost the same time. Different cancers – different treatments. She seemed healthier – better chances.
How are these calls “home” made? How are they fair? I guess life is not about fair – whose game and what rules apply… mystery. It is hard to have faith when life seems so unfair. Our hearts ache. Time has frozen. The future becomes all about the past – remembering, rejoicing in what was, reflecting on how we made our marks. How did we do?
This is not about me. It is not about anyone other than “Emily”. Yet, it all about me and it is about you. It is about all of us. It is all about how we live, knowing how fragile life can be. She reminds us to carry on. She reminds us of those we cherish – to not take for granted – to breathe and to make each breathe conscious. She reminds me to be grateful for today and to make it count. We have a future. We cannot live in the past. Not yet. There is too much to do.
We rejoice in birth. We take our peace in knowing there is time – time for a new life to grow and age. We summon the courage to support this birth and the wisdom to guide, to inspire, to know when it is time to support and to know when it is time to let go. The skies are blue -the winds are gentle. Our worlds are green and new. There is hope and comfort in a future that is joyous. There is laughter and celebration. There is life.
We pause in death. We reflect. It is time – time to take stock of what was. There is a strange sense of desperation. It is the feeling that the doors are closing and we are on a dead-line to get our house in order. Yet, there is nothing to do but wait. We wait and we pray. We pray for courage for the family. We pray for courage for Emily. We pray we have the courage to carry on ourselves knowing that this life has created a void. Our lives will never be the same again. A tradition is removed. An absence created.
The winds are harsh – the skies are grey. There is a storm brewing just under the calm surface – the mask which conceals the rage of injustice, fear, sadness. We dare not express. Not now.
Now – is about her. It is about you. It is about me. It is about life – new beginnings somewhere else. It is about another time. Another beginning. We wish we had a grasp of what that looks like. She is on her journey home. She is not alone. She takes a piece of all of us with her – and leaves a piece of her with all of us.
The moving finger writes and having writ moves on. We make our chapters count. We make them note-worthy. We make them memorable. The ink … indelible. Never to fade – never lost.