Yesterday, on the three week anniversary of her death, Roy and I went to Jewelyn's funeral - or, as it was more appropriately called, the celebration of her life. And it really was a celebration of her life. From the Hawaiian dancers to the eulogy given by two of her dear friends to the heart-squeezing slideshow, it was a wonderful tribute to an amazing woman. I cried and laughed and sat there in disbelief. And something unlocked inside me.
I could go on and on about how Jewelyn's death has affected me, because it really has. I could talk about how it's reopened the wound of my own birth experience. I could talk about how I cried the other night as I fed Charlie - out of gratitude and sadness and the inability to understand, really understand, the circle of life. I could talk about how today I feel so alive, so open to every minute of each hour, so aware of each blade of grass and gust of wind.
But I won't.
Because at this point there is nothing to do but to say goodbye. To wish upon Jewelyn the most beautiful peace and the safest of travels. To send healing and goodness to her husband and daughter and friends and students and loved ones. To recognize that life is oh so painful, but all that pain is so worth it, because without that pain, we would never grow or change or learn.
And finally, there is nothing left to be done but to celebrate life and all its complexity. I hope you'll join me, today and every day.
(Goodbye, Jewelyn. I hope to see you and your fabulous smile in another life.)