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.
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.