it is real. i looked at the shell of her earthly existence and nothing looked back at me. the clacking of black heels on a gym floor. people crying and laughing and hugging and remembering and forgetting. all in her name. we gathered like a dysfunctional family reunion and clapped and rose to our feet and tried not to feel so sorry for ourselves. and God dwelt in and among us, and she was flying through the clouds. i know, because i saw the rainbow. the earth seemed to mourn with us, turning from spring back into winter. and we accepted the fact that death is part of life. life does go on. and on and on and on and on. much better, with colors and praises we have never seen or heard before. for now we are stuck, blooming and withering where we are planted, like flowers coming through the cracks of cold pavement. i breathe in and out, like she couldn't do for a week. i just kept praying. i kept talking to her, willing her to survive her rocking hospital bed. "if you just hold in your breath, til you come back up in full."
and then thursday morning, i saw her. out of the corner of my eye. girl with blond hair. taller than me. still presence. wasn't there. i kept turning, looking, catching my breath. later that night, she was freed from her rocking bed, her sterile room, her wearied body. breathe deeply the richness of God's house for you. it's forever now. it's only the beginning of forever. and all of us here keep breathing in and out and sometimes struggle. sometimes it's so bittersweet i can't. and i turn off the music in my head and realize it's life and there's nothing i'm really in control of anyway.
i didn't get to meet her parents but if i had, i could only think of one thing to say. may God turn your mourning into dancing; not abruptly or irreverently, but gently and sweetly, like the seasons change. like winter back into spring.
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