She was, is, I don’t know - leaving - her hours ago with her son, one of several; dying. She, not him.
The purpose of my visit was to say goodbye to a friend.
More than a friend - it is complicated; us:
Once a patient, instant friend in the sense of a fellow traveler acknowledging each others secrets unspoken. A crossing of paths across eternity. Not at, or in, a night sea: ships passing distant. But a brief / close / intimate / touch. Unannounced. Not articulated.
Then at each visit, amplification, renewal, expansion: a touch, a word, a gift . . . she gave me her travel Bible and Concordance.
We two became a pair, a couple inseparable by anything not even now, not death; never.
A One.
She’d have a room full of visitors, women mostly. I learned in time they prayed together; then even for me, even now that I am long absent. And she in her way ordained me bereft of liturgy or celebration.
In parting this evening said in closing, silently, with one thumb up, her eyes smiling not otherwise, whispering; “keep the faith” . . . the door quietly closing behind me . . . .
Endless we who do the work -- The Work -- service to those without; the poorest of the poor. We know one another by deed and behavior. Not by word so much. Talk being cheap but actions speak louder and are lasting . . . and I will carry on until it is my turn to lay dying smiling giving a facsimile of what she has given me like M consecrated in love.
Now I know the good, the better, the best, the sense of God blest; a light passed from one to another; glowing a star in the darkness . . . .
we are but a tear, she and me, in a sea of endless darkness, for now, but we give what we have that others know love and peace always
"All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well."
"Between God and the soul there is no between." - Julian of Norwich
. . . be well, one and all, know your soul, your greatest wealth
shared, going home, never really alone
130305 0058 The Work
© 2013 by Jack Spratt - All Rights Reserved
