I have a dear friend who had to watch as her mother journeyed from this world to a world her soul calls home.  I was not there, but I know this friend well and know with full confidence that she held each feeling, each thought, each moment with the grace and love they deserved.  She has been an example of grace and compassion to me so many times in our lives together, but most especially as she walked the rough and cruel road of cancer with her mama.  I can’t stop thinking about her this week.  Each year, for her birthday, we sit on my porch and just be.  And each year, the jacaranda trees that line my street, bloom in full vibrant purple.  While some are still blooming, others are losing their flowers. My street is lined in purple. It is as if the trees know it is a time to mourn.  This post is for her.  I love you, my sweet friend.  I am holding you gently, just as the earth seems to be holding the fallen flowers of our jacaranda trees.

The Guest House
Jelaluddin Rumi

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.
Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

Meditation is a way of slowing down so as to descend into the depths of yourself in the present moment, where God lies waiting to grant you a deep experience of your eternal oneness with God.
~James Finley

Love Sorrow
Mary Oliver

Love sorrow. She is yours now, and you must
take care of what has been
given. Brush her hair, help her
into her little coat, hold her hand,
especially when crossing a street. For, think,
what if you should lose her? Then you would be
sorrow yourself; her drawn face, her sleeplessness
would be yours. Take care, touch
her forehead that she feel herself not so
utterly alone.

I know she is not the only one that is feeling the sting of death.  It is something we all must walk through.  May we all remember, with courage, to love and hold one another gently.