Dance

To live means that we will die.


I know that. We all know that. But, when you get the call that a friend is suddenly and unexpectedly gone, knowing that it is just part of life didn't help. Not in that moment.


There have been two such losses in the past few days. Turn around and they are gone. Friends my own age.


So begins the days of family and friends gathering, food and flowers arriving, rooms filled with stories, memories, tears and laughter. What more can we do but to be there. To feel what we feel. To share what we can share. To do what we can do. To say nothing when there are simply no words. 


I read a piece several years ago and sadly have had occasion to share it on many occasions. I offer it again for myself and for anyone else who may find some comfort from these words. 


“I have survived so much loss, as all of us have by our 40s—my parents, dear friends, my pets. If you haven’t already, you will lose someone you can’t live without, and your heart will be badly broken, and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of a beloved person. But this is also the good news. They live forever, in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly—that still hurts when the weather is cold—but you learn to dance with the limp.” Anne Lamott


Dance dear ones.


All good things, k