When my husband and I married all those years ago, cough…my mind wasn’t prepared for how well acquainted we would become with death, he especially. So much church and ministry life happens quietly, behind the scenes, as it should, and there are these extraordinary, jewelled moments, of being with people before, and as they die. These privileged moments of intimacy, I would not normally have had, and for the most part, I am very grateful for them.
I never noticed that before, that ceiling, she thought to herself. All this time, she hadn’t noticed the fabric of her security. But she had never floated like this before. The current had always looked uncomfortable.
The boat rocked gently convincing her she was awake, although, now she couldn’t see. She was blinded by pin pricks of light that ferociously claimed the space around the notes.
By the time she reached the entrance/exit, her eyes burned with sight. And there he was. All the younger for the waiting.
reminded me of this wonderful song, by one of the most remarkable poets, imho.
Nick Cave lost one of his teenage sons over a year ago. It was tragic, he fell from a cliff. I wondered at the time if something as catastrophically devastating as that would paralyse his art creating. But of course, I was wrong. We are talking about Nick Cave, after all…