The sun didn't make sense this morning after I read Lily's text. Her close friend and roomie lost her mother overnight. We knew it was imminent, but I know all too well that we can never be prepared for a loss of this magnitude. It levelled me when I was forty. K will turn twenty-two tomorrow. My heart is breaking for her. Them.
For some reason I was overcome with emotion when I saw a crane in flight. Maybe it was my skyward gaze, the majestic bird flying alone, or the song in cue:
Our love turns to rust
We're beaten and blown by the windBlown by the windOh, and I see loveSee our love turn to rustOh, we're beaten and blown by the windBlown by the windOh, when I go thereI go there with youIt's all I can do
I ugly cried my way to work as I sang out of tune. For some reason the car is my ground zero.
Seventeen years and three days ago was a similarly sunny day. I remember feeling the incongruity of the sky's brightness and the dark cloud that was my stark new reality. Life as usual felt like a personal assault on my grief. I couldn't fathom laughing, singing, playing, just enjoying life again, but slowly, shyly I did. This loss isn't about me, and yet I am feeling it viscerally.
Today is a sad day.
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