I have not been blogging for a bit for several reasons. Most of which center on the fact that I just had one of those brief interludes – you know the kind – where it seems like a nuclear bomb has gone off in your life and everything is burning down.
Nothing will be the same.
Then one day, it all starts up again – only usually there is something that has been revealed that makes it quite different.
Funny what a life-changing past 12 months this has been for me. Funny too, the strange kind, how in these spaces you get to see the things around you with clarity and begin to learn to which future you lean. I guess it has been a time of letting go of the past, or more, allowing it to remain where it has been left.
I have been very sick for the past two weeks. For some people around me that is like a ‘whoosh’ statement, it has no bearing on the kind of interaction they have and that is alright. For some, it has kind of drawn us closer.
What am I trying to say? Things I can’t really say in detail, in public, in a blog and yet – this is a part of this strange semi-private-public beastie that blogging is.
It is past midnight and I can’t sleep. I have an enormous lump in my throat and I would like to cry, yet also want to hold that lump in – to savor the feeling of it, the awareness that I am feeling it.
I did a vigil today. Something I don’t talk about very often here. When I got called out I just had this sense of absolute urgency about getting there. I was out the door in ten minutes, running without my shoes tied to catch the bus.
I went into one of the roughest sections of town. Into one of the just nastiest places you’d want to wind up in for your last moments. Hot. Holes in the wall. Short staffed. Dirty. Deeply poor. And I took my position up where I am to be and began.
Several hours into it…how can I say it? Specifics I can’t, that’s a privacy thing.
It was the most beautiful and powerful vigil I have ever been on. And the staff, with nothing to really work with and overwhelmed, did some of the kindest and most gracious things I have ever witnessed. They were a bit cool to me until (after several hours) one asked, “Are you the daughter?”
And I said, “No, I am the vigil volunteer.”
And they both broke into huge smiles and started crying at the same time and hugged me, saying thankyouthankyouthankyou. Then they told me the story of the person I had come to see, whose mouth I had been swabbing and whose cool cloths I had been changing because there were no fans or open windows or anything.
And the whole room became brighter while some of the realities of the world became a bit darker.
We hide so much. We try to both forget and hold on at the same time, but it’s like…two people clinging to each other and yet both their faces are turned in opposite directions and they cannot see each other. The wind fills their ears and nothing can be heard.
Then again nothing is said.
And the other part of the vigil, the part for which there is no words, what passes between you and someone unknown to you – who reveals themselves to you without words or stories or anything – it was the deepest experience I have had.
When I left, I walked rather than take the bus. Not one person bothered me. Everyone sort of stepped out of my way. The bangers, the drug dealers, the hoods and punks and gentrifying intruders.
I wanted my cave.
I wanted my solitude.
I wanted my new reality that I have only just learned.
And the Mad Kitten brought me a mouse.
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