Good Friday

"HI, I’m Sarah…”I said reaching out to shake her hand.

Slowly she reaches out her hand and took mine while her mouth drops open.

“That was my mom’s name,” she whispers to herself.

Guiding her back to my office I ask her for her name.

She sits in my office with the deer in the headlight look.

I wait as she seems eager to say something, but cannot find the words.

“I was my mother’s caregiver for years,” she says with a fierce strength in her eyes.

“And she passed away three months ago, “Her mouth remains open to continue, but silence comes.

Her fingers dance amongst themselves as her eyes break the strength they tried to hold, and tears come.

“It’s just so hard and no one understands. We were so close. I just….”

And she lets herself cry.

“I know there are no words to describe how it feels when you were so needed and loved, and suddenly that feels gone,” I say.

She glares at me and I know that while I have not embraced her physically, I have embraced her hurt.

“We all have an internal desire to be needed and loved, but most of us go through life feeling empty and unused,” I continue.

She nods in fierce agreement.

“And oh how special and indescribable it is when we fill those pieces of ourselves. And how lost we feel when we lose that.”

Her smile hugs me.

We go on to have a fabulous discussion about how she wants to volunteer.

She needs to be around others, giving of herself, sharing and receiving joy. Feeling wanted. Needed. Appreciated.

Her needs are not much different than my own.

Few ever take the steps to find this fulfillment.

They get lost in meaningless relationships keeping a waning glimmer of maybe, the find safety in the familiar, they fail to see their gifts.

She doesn’t want to leave, but she doesn’t want to keep me either.

“You know, I was just in the area and thought I would stop over here to see how I could volunteer,” she says gathering her things.

“And then you come out and your name is the same as my mother’s.”

I walk her to the door and she turns around, “It’s never a coincidence is it?” I say.

She smiles and I know. Her Sarah has touched this moment. This day.

And she is taking all the pain of her loss and turning it into joy by giving of herself to help others.

Can it be any better?

Dear My Micheal

I didn’t know what I was singing up for. Not that it would have changed anything. I’m crazy enough to have married a rock star.

And it’s hard to share.

A humble man, just trying to be a beach bum is forever bombarded with other’s needs.

His success follows him and people expect great things.

And he will give it all.

Now before you think I am selfish- I am not. I am a giver, but I learned to set boundaries because I became depleted before. And so has he.

So I am over protective of him.

And of us.

And of our time.

It took half of my lifespan to get to him. And It’s unknown how much is left.

I have never met anyone that loves everyone the way he does.

Even those that took it all from him, he rarely casts a negative stone.

He is a friend to all and lots consider him their best friend.

Many emulate him.

But he is also just one man.

With six kids who adore him.

A cat he swore he’ d never own that sleeps at his feet.

A Little Gay Dog that prances in love.

And a Goddess, who helped hold his heart.

Most of our days are glorious, but we both carry scars.

And insecurities sometimes get the best of us.

Allowing others to take our joy.

Because they envy what we have.

And think they are on equal footing.

But they are looking at the rock star and not the man.

A distinction few understand.

And while many cling to you as their anything.

You are my everything.