As I type this, one of my best gals is on a plane to Atlanta with her son in tow (literally. she's 7-months pregnant). I've prolonged the goodbye as much as possible, but last night - as the girls toasted her and assured her that she's going to be a fabulous mother and that we'll help her as much as we can - and more as she assured us that she's coming back - it became official. So here's my tribute to the time I've known D.
With my own sister and niece gone, with Kelly having moved, and now Devon...and with more family moving away in the next year (Brian, Jenn and Olive are moving to California and and Tim and Julie are moving to North Carolina this summer), I am beginning to feel like it must be something I've done.
The cosmos sure has a funny way of teaching me to love.
The theme of losing has been prevalent and deeply sad for me of late. It seems that as we learn to love without expectation or fear, the more we practice letting go and accepting other people's decisions for their lives. In the most childish way, I want my kin's decisions to center around being close to me...but in my wise-ish parts, I understand and truly desire that they do what is best for themselves and their families. But God...it's so damn hard. I'm quite tired of it and frankly, don't know how much more I can handle.
I want a relationally lucrative life.
This feels impossible when staring down so much loss.
I'm determined to claim the gain.
In other news, I am trying to drink less.
So pretty much things are depressing as hell around here.