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As we approach the final weekend of the summer, many writers
can’t help but remark how quickly the time has flown by, how hard it is to
believe that summer’s come to an end, all the while fully acknowledging that
it’s cliché to do so. Yet there it is. It’s hard not to.
Summer is the one season we never seem ready to let go of.
The warmth, the long days and ease of it all is a welcome respite from the rest
of the year filled with early morning school buses, meetings, appointments, the
holidays, and for the majority of us lots of cold rain and snow.
And yet, year after year we have no choice but to surrender
to Mother Nature, as we collectively make our turn around and away from the
sun.
The turn from August into September will always represent
something deeper and more personal for me than just the passing of a season and
the end of warm weather and play. It means that a full year has passed since a
light brighter than any Sun went out and I came to know darkness darker than
any moonless night.
A full year since I last held my sweet angel.
A full year since I kissed her goodbye.
A full year since I watched as she took her final breath.
A full year since she surrendered.
A full year since we let her go and released her back to God.
A full year since my world was flipped upside down and
smashed to smithereens.
A full year.
Time does move quickly whether we’re ready or not. One
observation I had as we counted birthday after miraculous birthday, was how
children really force you to pay attention to the passage of time. When you
have a new life become a part of your life you see how quickly it all goes by.
Another year. Another birthday. Another miracle.
We’ve now gone through all the firsts without Mia. First
holidays, first birthdays, first anniversary, first everything that comes in
the span of a year. And now here we are. The first anniversary of the ultimate
surrender and return to the beloved. To say it was a hard year for us only
scratches the surface of the range of emotions, highs and lows we experienced. The
immense suffering that comes from such a loss.
I often find myself existing on two planes, one where the
suffering shakes me to my core, brings me to my knees, and fills me with the
deepest sadness and grief imaginable. The other plane is where my suffering is
Grace, Mia’s Grace, where I am filled with an undeniable understanding and
acceptance of the perfection of it all.
I learned a lot from her during our nearly 8 years together
but the most important lesson in all of this is that Mia showed me how to live
unconditionally. The love that exists between us is something that will never
die. It has always existed and continues to exist beyond her physical death.
Love is boundless. Love needs not take any from, though it often does and quite
beautifully. Love is as pure an uncondition as there is and I feel Mia’s love
with me still, in the quiet moments, when I am still and open.
Mia’s life was her gift to us, her grace. She showed us how
to live with the purity of the heart, to do everything from a place of love.
Her light has not gone out. I can see that now. It’s just
different. It fills my days and carries me on. She is the air that I breathe. She
is the waves in the ocean. She is the bee buzzing in the flower. She is the
flower. She is the warmth of the sun. She is in the changing leaves. She is the
falling snow. She is the whole universe.
She is.
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