So, it’s a gray, cold, rainy Saturday morning somewhere in the NW burbs of Chicago. Coldplay is crooning in the background as I sit on an ochre colored settee’ placed between four walls of this hotel room allowing me a few minutes of quiet time before the next soccer game. As I drove up last night I learned that my daughter gets “Axed” several times a week as her locker is sandwiched between two boys who profusely overspray their fragrant cologne of which she is a reluctant recipient, though she delightfully complains about it! I also discovered that she doesn’t like the colors yellow or brown and was reminded that she hates pepper. We got a big chuckle out of that one… I guess hours together in the car do have merit.
With music softly playing in the background she curled up under a blanket and laid back on the flattened out car seat and fell asleep; the cruise was set at 78 and the street lights lit the lightly trafficked 6 lanes allowing my mind the freedom to drift back to the events of the week. The man that was my rebound relationship post-divorce passed away a week ago, and it still doesn’t seem real. The relationship was, by definition destined not to be, and yet we were able – eventually – to develop a very firm friendship. I learned of his career frustrations, heart aches, childhood wounding and we learned to care for each other just as two mere human passengers traveling together on this tiny spinning ball whirling through the universe.
I went to the showing and was stunned as I stood in line and listened to two men next to me talk as if what we were waiting to do wasn’t really happening. They talked about their golf games, a new home, their last vacations, but never once during their conversation did I hear his name mentioned, hear them talk about the relationship they had with him, the loss they felt, their fears…. surreal. My heart is heavy even as I write this. I know that his soul/essence/spirit – whatever it is – has passed onto the next phase, but the human being on this side still feels a loss. 57. His soul was done…
My thoughts seem to come back to the same thing over and over again. My friend passed and I can only hope he was able to really enjoy his final days like he longed to do – get his life back… It keeps coming back to the awareness that we only have this exact moment. That life happens right now – not tomorrow – yesterday’s stuff is really gone and we have an amazing choice to take a breath this very second – and live – and feel.
I’m still sad and I’m good with that. I’ve learned to feel again.
“The intellect of man is forced to choose
Perfection of the life, or of the work,
And if it takes the second must refuse
A heavenly mansion, raging in the dark.”
William Butler Yeats
Here’s to looking at that full moon my friend, and remembering you each and every time… Thank you for teaching me many lessons. Until the next time…