Three Men

On your last birthday – the day before you died – you sang “All by Myself” while we all just looked on, the number 41 glowing in front of you. You didn’t wait for us; you grabbed the joy yourself.

Mala, lay down

I am reading about Medusa and the healing crystal that formed from her death. I am reading about transformation and immeasurable joy . . .

Comfort

They are coming by tomorrow, the nurse who was your constant and the nurse who marked your progressed as you passed. I’m not supposed to be helping them, but I want to show them this peace.

Judge not lest ye . . . Be.

Your family once asked me – early on in my caring for you – where my sacred space was. I told them it was sitting still, on the stairs. Because it was.

Chamomile

My friend revels in reminding me of my first description of you – a burl of a loving man.

My cup runneth . . .

I wanted to extend my care for you. To you. I wanted to help you pass, further. I wanted to grieve you, truly grieve you. I didn’t want you to be gone. I wanted to honour you. I wanted your struggle to be over, but I struggled after you were over. I wanted a ritual.

Blue Topaz

“Tell a story about blue topaz that makes u feel joy and then you will get clearer!!!”

Curing

Can you slap science? I mean really. Behind door A or behind door B. What about door C? Managing?

Signs

When I walked into the room and toward the bed, there lay the stone. It was equidistant between the dresser I bought from the money Nana left me, and the spot where just the day before I had helped you pass.

Forgiveness

The eyes of the assisting doctor were round, blue, and fiercely focused. She said something to the nurse that I don’t remember, but knew it meant you were gone. I asked the time. 8:35 am.