day late and a dollar short

*shitshitshit*

Shit I hate death, grief, uncontrollable grief. Grief grief grief. Guh.
So, my beautiful friend Amy is on her final flight pattern. She was diagnosed with a "1b7fc73011740771f446b33
glioblastoma multiforme — a grade 4 malignant brain tumor" almost, not yet 2 years ago. Lately the updates have been coming with some regularity, and each time the email comes, I think its "the one", the update that will tell us that she has gone on. Not that I am looking for this email, asking it to come, or wishing that it would. God I would do anything, really, to make that not happen. However, I know that what could be done has been done. And it will happen. And it is so profoundly sad.

When Sweetie and I first started dating, Sweetie had been single for some 7 years or so. Amy was her biggest cheerleader of falling in love. So when I met Amy for the first time, she just looked at me and smiled. And smiled and smiled and smiled. She went on and on and on about how we were perfect and how happy she was for us. And we had been dating for like, I don't know, a week? I mean really, this beautiful womans joy and love, it was just pure and radiant. And silly, wonderful and I could go on.

The other day I ran across a blog that I love, but haven't spent tons of time at lately. Who am I kidding, I have not been very good about visiting anyones lately (insert HUGE apology here). Anyway, Tess at Anchors and Masts participated in the 23rd Poetry Party over at Abbey of the Arts (another blog I love but have not visited frequently enough lately). The rules of the party are that a photo is posted, and people write a poem based on the image. I loved Tess' piece. It touched something that has been stirring in my heart for some time. So here is Tess' piece.

tune-waiting

Tune – waiting

Today is Poetry Party at Abbey of the Arts. I hope you’ll join in. As usual, Christine has given us a theme and a visual inspiration – the beautiful photograph above of her dog Tune, waiting for her walk.

Here’s my contribution to the poetry party:


Waiting. The word implies
waiting for something
particular.


Listening. The word implies
listening to something
in particular.


But what if our waiting
and our listening
are no more than
waiting, and listening?


Sometimes we wait to see
what will happen.
And listen in case we hear
the voice of God.


And the stirring? Just reminds me of my dear friend.

Waiting 
beautiful and patient
as the day is long
her Master ready
for the next walk to begin.

Amen.

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6 thoughts on “day late and a dollar short

  1. Rachel, I’m glad that my post resonated with you and I love the poem of your own that you have put in honour of your beautiful friend.
    The photograph of Amy is wonderful, I’m not sure I’ve ever seen such lovely eyes. Prayers for you both.

  2. Mindy is right your words match her eyes and also clearly state she’s beautiful inside and out.
    You have written a beautiful tribute to your friends. My prayers are with you, your sweetie & your friend.

  3. So beautiful, Sweetie. Amy would love your praise and memories of your early meetings–and she would deny any credit for any of it and tell us it was we who changed her–she is crazy-unselfish and unable to see her own beauty.
    Let’s hope Amy keeps rubbing off on us–we should be so lucky or worthy …

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