Last year an acquaintance of mine passed away, and it shook me more than I thought it would. (I wrote a long post processing my feelings then, but then it disappeared, so I figure it was something I was meant to keep to myself at the time. So here is part 2!). We had some different views on things, but I always, ALWAYS admired her light, warmth, and kindness. She comes to mind often, reminding me that life is so short. There are days that I’m scrolling through photos on my phone and I come across the couple we have together, or the screenshots I took from her Instagram stories (she was a nutritionist and posted some great information), and still can’t believe she’s gone. It’s just unreal.
We shared a passion for wellness, nutrition, and physical fitness. We both had experienced emotionally traumatic relationships, and had gone through our own experiences with betrayal trauma recovery. And, apparently our birthdays are less than a week apart—a week and a year!
Last Sunday was my birthday, and I celebrated by going to Portland to visit my brother and some close friends for the weekend. As I walked home from church that peaceful gray morning, I came across a “Poetry Post,” where a poem was posted for people to read by the sidewalk. The poem was “When Death Comes” by Mary Oliver.
“…And therefore I look upon everything
as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,
and I look upon time as no more than an idea,
and I consider eternity as another possibility,
and I think of each life as a flower, as common
as a field daisy, and as singular,
and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,
tending, as all music does, toward silence,
and each body a lion of courage, and something
precious to the earth.
When it’s over, I want to say all my life
I was a bride married to amazement.
I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.
When it’s over, I don’t want to wonder
if I have made of my life something particular, and real.
I don’t want to find myself sighing and frightened,
or full of argument.
I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.”
I cried then, and I cry now. Happy birthday, Amy. You continue to inspire me, and I hope to carry light, love, determination, and focus like you do.