There Are No

Writing has been a passion of mine for more years than I can count.

I wrote my first story in pencil on the back cover of a spiral notebook,

I dreamed of writing “The great American Novel,” but that was not to be.

I never thought about writing obituaries or eulogies. I rarely read them.

I have an aversion to public displays of sympathy or visits to funeral parlors.

I avoid cemeteries.

I have always opted to believe, those who leave are in a better place and no longer part of this troubled earth.

That is the reason it is so difficult to comprehend why I wrote of losses this past month.

Perhaps compulsion is the word I must use to explain this radical change.

I felt obliged to share the blessings of amazing friends with those who had not been privileged to know them.

Deb, my beautiful Goddaughter, always began a phone call with, “It’s just me.” And in response, I would chide her, “You are never just you. You are Deborah and always special.” And so she was until her final moment on this earth.

Dr. Sal lived a long life, 14 years after his friend ( my Anam Cara) departed. Our worlds had changed. He retired and I relocated. Yet the residual of his care, kindness and generosity of spirit never diminished in my heart.

And yesterday, while carefully embarking on a sheet of ice from a jovial luncheon, I received a message. My friend, conscience and travel mate from Madonna Heights, Sr. Thomas More, has gone home with the angels.

This morning a phone call informed me Vida, my first friend in a new home, returned to God last night. Our world at Cordia will be sadder without her vitality, humor and ever present kindness to all who crossed her path. I will be ever grateful for the brief moments of life we shared. R.I.P. beloved friend.

I pray I will not write more . I have no more words, part of my heart has left with all those I loved and lost.