I can't believe it's been a year. Then again, I can't believe all that has happened since you've been gone. First, I just have got to say, that I deeply regret not coming out to you when I last saw you. I was searching for the words, but my attention was elsewhere — and before I knew it, my time with you was over. I thought we had more time. I know you did too. If not, you sure hid it well. All propped up on your big fluffy bed, nice crisp pajamas, ready to receive visitors. But when I came back the next day to bring Communion, the facade was gone. I noticed your swollen legs, your chalky white tongue, the distant look in your eyes as you grimaced at the pain.
I really miss you. I wish so much I could talk to you about everything in my life. Well, I do talk to you, I just have to be a lot more attentive to notice how you respond now. I felt you really strongly right after your death, you know. As strongly as I felt my granmother when she died. You both visited me in that uncertain space between dream and wakeful vision.
I couldn't bring myself to go to the Good Friday service this year. Remember how I prayed those days before Easter? I know that you do. My prayers were desperate and filled with longing and demands that my lonliness and hopelessness be removed. I was purging then — friends who didn't respect me, emotionally abusive lovers — and chasing down love in all the wrong places, finding only it's illusion. Remember that list I made in my diary on Palm Sunday? Everything I deserved and demanded from the Universe, combined with frustrated tears? I know you had a hand in manifesting those things in my life. Instead of missing you in the church pews Good Friday evening, I met a dream girl. The answer to my prayer that night.
So I'm in love! And she is wonderful, Delle. I wish you could have met her. She's a bit younger than me, a nursing student. I know how you felt about nurses — unsung angels. She's got a beautiful little girl, the same age as M.A.! She moved in with me a few months ago. We're making a life together with our brood of girls, and I'm counting on you to help me out from up there, sista. Relationships are hard work! So many hidden things about ourselves get dragged into the light where we're forced to deal with them. Lord knows I've got issues. I guess it's time to deal with them, huh? If I really want all the things on my list — which are now right at my fingertips — I've got to heal that broken girl-turned-woman inside. I need your help with that. T and I are overflowing with love for each other. I'm counting on love to see us through all the challenges. We're both committed to the health of our relationship, but we sure could use a sizable dose of grace from time to time! Oh no, you don't get to rest now — we need you to call in a few favors for us down here! I know what a workaholic you are anyway! I wonder what work God has for you now? I bet it's everything you ever dreamed of.
It's been a blessing to know that you're in our corner, always. I know if you've got God's ear, you're filling all of our lives with a constant flow of grace.
I've got an ovarian cyst. I had the CA-125 test and the results were normal but I'm not convinced I'm out of the woods yet. My doc wants to "wait and see" until March, where we'll take another look and talk about surgery. If there's anything you can do to help me out there, I'd be grateful. It would be more than ironic to me if I had to face the same disease that took you from us. That squatter better not try to find a home in MY ovaries!
We're all taking care of each other. The FaithFolk list continues, but has been silent so far this morning. We're all thinking of you, still greiving in our own ways. When we need each other, we reach out. I plan to write your brother a note today. I can still hear R singing 'The Deer's Cry' at your funeral. She is going to be an amazing woman one day. My heart is with her today too. What an incredible girl — to allow her mother to spiritually mother so many others. Damn, I wish I could hug you right now. A wink up at heaven will have to do.
All my love,
P.S. Oh, geez, how could I have forgot to mention this blog? Do you like the name? I know you'd get where I'm coming from with the Anima Sola image and it's many layers of meaning. You were always after me to write more, so here it is: my shot at filling a fraction of your shoes. I'm sure I don't bring my readers to the same spiritual heights that you brought so many, but I hope I at least stir a few souls from time to time. And I'm really enjoying my writing too — it really helps keep me open and grounded when all the stresses of life make me want to shut down and run screaming down the block. I'm only half kidding when I say that. It's become a real anchor for me in a turbulent sea. A source of graditude. I never would have started this blog if not for you. How am I doing?