The Big Rawness
I sit with your death like it happened yesterday. As if sitting with a friend I’d known for a long time.
There was nothing I could do. I couldn’t stop the tumors from raging inside of you. I couldn’t have been a better daughter, nor you a better father. This death was out of my control. So I try to control everything else in my life. And I can’t do that either. There’s really so little I can.
So I sit at the end of this meditation where I’ve conjured up my helplessness and followed the long thread back to you. My helplessness, sprinkled with fear, with panic, all things unknown. Like life after your death. Impossible to think about. And somehow we all went on. With a big rawness, the invisible wound. I sit with your death tonite, and an inexplicable calm comes over me. A quiet murmur, a soft knowing. A friend, finally. I find a crack in the wall I’ve built. I find there’s no wall at all. That right here in this present moment I can heal the chasm between now and then, the 29 years.