It's almost like trying to name God: if I pull out one piece of these last days, I will be leaving behind the infinity of other experiences.
And yet God says, Know me.
There are words that come close: Love. Grace. Compassion. Gratitude. All of which I have said before, but never did I know they could spin me like this.
And the sorrow, it is piercing. (Did I think I would be spared?)
My words continue to haunt me -- something to make the going on easier.
This is not easy. It is the hardest thing I have ever known. But riding in on the sorrow and the pain is an unnameable peace, a comfort and reassurance, a knowing like no other that truly, all shall be well.
It does indeed have something to do with falling through stars, and whispering in leaves. It has also to do with waves on rocks, and laughing children, and ducks floating by. Bread rising, a pot of tea, clean clothes stacked neatly in piles. Babies on shoulders, songs singing, hearts loving.
She will be everywhere, and I won't be able to touch her.
I won't be able to touch her, but she will be everywhere.