One of the people I love, admire, and respect most in the world, is dying. Her time is soon. Her spirit is lifting.

When I read her daughter’s last email, letting us know, my heart almost jumped out of my body. Even though I just came back from seeing her – from spending two days with her, it doesn’t feel completely real – not right somehow. When I saw her she was alive. I kissed her warm lips – touched her, spoke with her.

And here I am today. This morning I took great joy in writing another short story. I took joy in walking with Simon and the dogs down to the lake at Bannock Point. I am writing this. I am living a life full of energy and plans for the future – and this beautiful being is ready to fly.

How can this ordinary life of mine continue – while the life of this amazing person is about to change – not disappear, but alter so dramatically that her body will be left behind?

How is this possible?

How can the world keep spinning without Sandra in it?

I want to go back to Vancouver – to honour her, to be part of a sacred ceremony in her honour. If I can’t send my body, at least I must send my spirit.

I ache.

And I am alive.

I am perplexed that life can go on and change and transmute and I am still here, breathing – as though nothing had changed. And an earthquake is shaking the foundations.