How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.
- Winnie the Pooh
I walked home, alternately trying not to cry and feeling like...she has given me great great gifts, incredible gifts. She is not really gone, because she has given me things I can use and will use. Her ideas will be with me every day. When I react differently to a thing than I used to, that will be something she taught me. When I have some hope of change, and believe it to be true, that will be something I learned from her. She wasn't my friend, she wasn't my teacher. She isn't dead. But I will never see her smile again. She'll not again tell me a different way of looking at something. Being the friendly mirror I have needed for so long.
I saw a man sweeping in his driveway, and thought - yes, I've been doing that. I saw a dead bee on the ground, and thought - yes, we all die, we all stop. And then I walk on, and there's more things to see and look at, grass coming up, other plants fading and withering already. The sun is harsh and hot and bright. I feel a bit sick.
I walk and I walk, slowly, and a small wash of something that feels like love moves over me, from outside, from behind, from what's gone. I stop wanting to cry for a while. I think someone else's thoughts, from TV or film or a book: endings are also beginnings. Today is the first day...of everything else, everything after this. Great great gifts, incredible gifts.
Soon her face will fade, I will forget the look in her eyes, I will forget the way she used to look away while I was talking, to hear me better, and only look up at me, almost startled, if I looked at her directly.
I made her cupcakes, and wrapped them in a box with ribbon. All very amateurish, all very whats this about, why am I doing this? Is this so I don't have to say anything, because I have no idea how to say what I want to say? How much she helped?
Am very sad she is gone. Am very glad she was here. Gifts.