Returning

We made a special visit today, to see someone in the family who is approaching the end of life. Even though this man is in good spirits and warmly welcomes us as we arrive, I notice how his very delicate situation brings up all the old "stuff" inside me, about losing someone close. I watch her hold her father's hand so gently and he strokes it, there's such tenderness and love in their presence with each other. And in my witnessing, all sorts of memories come flooding back, some so overwhelming that I mentally remind myself to pull myself together. I look away then gaze at the neatly cut squares of carrot cake in the open tin, as if to sweeten the painful memories of loss in my life. In this moment I'm returning, to learn once again about respecting and appreciating the beauty and majesty of this precious human life, meditating on the one thing that holds it all together, love.
Love never dies. Isn't that a line from one of my favourite books, "Tuesdays with Morrie"? If ever there's a book to read about real love before we die, I think it must be that one. Alongside Shakespeare's Hamlet, I think there were some significant writings I was destined to read in this lifetime.
After our visit we walk by the sea, a gentle stroll together on this bright and windy November day. We talk about endings in our own lives as children growing up, losing parents , then step-parents and how we managed to stay afloat in those great big seas of sadness so many moons ago. And then we smile and shiver in the afternoon late autumn breeze as we talk about candy floss, Punch and Judy and those long, eternal days of summer, playing for hours on this beach we are looking at right now in front of us. On the way back to the car we recall the "Lost Childrens" tent from childhood days and share how glad we were, as children, never to have had to have been 'reclaimed' there, all those years ago.
Today, I count all my blessings.