loss

i struggle to come to terms with death and loss
and in this struggle i have no time for formalities

its the last thing I want to think about

maybe trying to make sense of it is futile especially when the wound is fresh
when the pain is up close and personal...

could we have imagined her gone so soon in that moments in January when we were laughing out loud, revelling in each other's company, breaking bread and telling tall tales and loving big in quiet ways with soft eyes and secret smiles, or  in bold ways with squishy hugs, and tickles and teasing...

I think of her often for she made sure we were well fed, and food is my love language.

I remember her mom's fish curry and the donuts and cookies filling our tummies .

And her tiny lego kingdoms amidst serious books ...

And she, the tiniest woman behind the wheel of the biggest double cab ...

What are we like, us women?

So prone to tears of joy and heartbreak...

Yet so resilient and brave.

Oh the joy of knowing these women, these warriors who in their quiet way take care of others without being asked, always in service to something bigger.

the phone is shrill when it rings with bad news
it always comes in the early morning hours when the world is still quiet.
and ready tears well up, and your heart burst open because you had the honour of being a part of her wonderful life.

and in that moment you look to your own life

I share the news! 
I turn to him and the thought pops into my head , uninvited, unwelcomed:
DO YOU HAVE REGRETS?

Robbed of peace, the thought is insistent:
NO REGRETS?

It nags at me, demanding attention like a petulant child:
NO REGRETS?

I shoo it away to quell disturbing thoughts.
It lingers, tugging at my defenses, demanding honesty.

Regrets?

Never!

This life? 

No!

Losing someone is never easy, I'm no stranger to death and his doing:
He and I are well acquainted: he has taken mother, father, newborn, friend.
I was left reeling, at a loss... death breaks bonds that anchor, define,  comfort.

But regrets? No!

They're gone, but never forgotten:

They lived.
They lived well, they were larger than life and they loved with big hearts. They will live on in everyday conversations, silent prayers, beating hearts and lasting memories purposefully made.

It's part of the cycle of life, part of every single journey...

For Aidah, with love.