No matter how many years pass, in a split second, you can get pulled back into that space. Sometimes you go willingly...you spur it on with a song or going to places once visited. Sometimes you find it on the wind while watching the sunrise. Sometimes you are sitting in a pub, watching soccer, and you overhear a conversation between siblings about their parent. How to manage their care. How to rearrange the furniture. How to convert the downstairs bathroom to include railings. How to add an extra railing in the stairwell. How to add a ramp to the garage steps. It all came rushing back during the time of year where it all still lingers.
Something happens in this space of time from late November until mid March...there is this thing that travels overhead and settles around. Every year I think I am strong enough to not let it weigh into my being. It is this sacred space that I shared with my Mom and Sister when we were caring for someone who was dying. There was no time for wallowing. There was no time for regret. There was only time to be fully present and ready for whatever the next moment brought. It was hard. It was scary. It was not without tears. It was beautiful.
There was a moment last night when I stood by the water and I could feel it all. The ebb and flow of everything. The energy. The sky was strewn with color. Everyone we needed was around. We toast. We live. We love.
