Part of what it is

I knew I'd stepped into a new place at the time of my birthday in December. I could feel the tumblers clicking.

and this slow moving forward is likely part of it. I just clicked over to a site that does on-line readings and drew a card there. It works for me --just like real cards in real life. I got the Hermit. That feels right. Things moving slowly but surely forward.

But, I go to do something in these evenings -- cruising blogs, for instance, which is what I've been doing this past 15 minutes or so. And I remember Joy writing that she'd spent a good hour or more clicking from one blog to another and how she said that "these folks are just like me".

There is some place in which we are all the same. And in that place, no one is gone. Mom is still here. Dad is still here. And Joy is also, still here.

Joy...

I'm washing dishes or shoveling snow or something and I'll suddenly think about Joy. I know it's because she was so recently on this side of the veil. So recently that she hasn't moved off that far yet. Maybe she's still hanging out in the near-by, waiting for her son to come out of his sadness or to see if her daughters are alright or maybe she's going to hang around, waiting for her husband to join her. When you've been married that long, you don't want to go off too far without your "other".

She seems rather near. I get thoughts sometimes that seem more hers than mine. Makes sense, of course, because we read each other's work all the time. I sent A Witch to Live to Joy and she sent me bits and pieces of God Loves Lucy. Wish I had that whole novel -- would love to read it -- and won't get to.

Today, looking at the clutter -- which -- how is there clutter here after all the decluttering I've done these past months? But, looking at the clutter, I think a thought that isn't mine. I can almost hear Joy, "I got rid of all my clutter. All at once." And that laugh.

That's not how I want to do it, Joy.

And I get a think-back to when I was a kid -- some random slant of light takes me to a day I knew. And it was so long ago. And I can't imagine someone saying "enough". Cause if I lived to be 3 times the age I am now, I'd still have all these days that I remember. And they live still, because I do. I'd never end it on purpose.

She might not have either. She might have taken her meds and then forgotten and taken them again.

Rev. Alice quoted, "Everyone commits suicide -- most of us simply do it in acceptable ways." It's true. That thing we love so much -- be it cigarettes, wine, fatty foods, chocolate ice cream, fast cars, or misty weather -- it gets us by and by. It's the thing we love that finally does it.

One of my brothers, still very much alive, told me, "I'm not sure which killed me, the cigarettes or the brown gravy."

Life is what gets us all. You enjoy enough of it and you get old. Old is something I look forward to. I want to be like Olivia Robertson -- 92 year old Reverend of the Temple of Isis -- a darling woman, so full of life and fun, that she practically lights up. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hBjshYBHEns

So... part of what it is -- I still don't know what to think about Joy leaving so suddenly. I mourn her missed opportunities. For the first few days, everything I'd think of was "Joy doesn't get to (have, see, do) that, anymore." And then I thought, but we don't know what kind of things she does get to do. We don't know what the other side is like. All different kinds of religions set out all kinds of ideas on what the other side is like, but it's all make-believe. No one who has ever really gone has come back, knowing. But I think, really, that the doing, being, seeing and having are in the earth realm. Which, may be why some of us want to come back as quick as we can. There's a lot here. Even if there's also a lot of pain and troubles, there's still a lot of moments.

I love moments. Maybe best of all.