The Space In Between

Since last Thursday, when I first learned how serious Theone's medical condition was, I have lived in the space in betweeen. I wait for the final call, the final text, the final email, the final blog entry. I try to find words that will convey the finality of the process. Part of me demands to say the actual words, yet being sensitive seems the more gentle and loving path to communicate reality.

I ache at times for those sitting with Theone. Then the stuff of my life distracts me and the ache subsides. But in the quiet and when I truly feel what's in my soul, the pain of loss seems bottomless. I think each one of our journeys is different. Yet, the common emptiness and helplessness at these times is universal. I believe there is a passage somewhere that says through death we are reborn. I don't know about that, but I do know that I have been given amazing gifts through these losses. It's that moment of clarity when you know nothing can be destroyed. It is simply transformed.

Life is tenacious, precious, precarious, joyful, sorrowful, painful, humorous, serious. It's a mystery that we know. I once had the honor of being in the delivery room when a friend of mine had her baby. I cried. No other response seemed more apt. All of the sudden there was a new life in the room. I have had the honor of being in several rooms when lives have ended. I cried. No other response seemed more apt. It's about the cycle. Nothing is destroyed, it just changes, it's just transformed.

I could not have written this without Theone being in my life when I was a teenager. It wasn't about what we did or where we were. She saw me. She heard me. She told me that I deserved to be here. She just knew when I needed to be seen and heard. I new I was her favorite, yet I have a suspicion that many people felt that same way. No, she wasn't a saint, but on the other hand she was my Patron Saint. My Patron Saint of knowing that life is worth living.