Yesterday I was walking to the beach with Scott, Mikayla, Ben and a friend of his. I called Bill to see if I could speak to Mary. He said he needed to call me back. When Bill called me back a few minutes later, he said she had just died. I had called as she was taking her last breaths.
I am so glad I flew the 2, 171 miles each way from Chicago to Victoria to be able to look into Mary's sky blue eyes, to tell her I love her, to show her that I care.
The marine layer that usually forms like a cataract over the city blocks closest to the beach every morning was not present this morning. The path was clear for the sun to rise unobstructed to its noontime throne. Yet I seemed to have a veil of fog around me. This is how grief manifests itself for me. It does not crash over me in waves of tears, but fills me with a foggy feeling of generalized depression. I know this fog of grief will soon wane and once again the sun will warm me.
1 comment:
Roz,
there is a spiritkeeper Aug 23. Don't know if you will be in town. I think one reason there are rituals around grief is to activate that fog and give the feelings a context to express. It is hard when the loss is in a far away place and the person wasn't part of daily life. A different type of hare, that is. So sorry. I'm glad I met Mary. Mary
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