A SIMPLE PROMISE OF CONNECTION

"I'll cry with you,"
she whispered
"until we run out of tears.
Even if it's forever.
We'll do it together."

There it was . . . a simple
promise of connection.

The loving alliance of
grief and hope that
blesses both our breaking
apart and our coming
together again.

 

~Molly Fumia, Safe Passage

 

 

 

There are those times when a simple promise of connection makes this journey bearable when you need someone by your side the most.  Just to hear the words "You know my heart is with you today" when you are facing the unknown and the frightening, suddenly changes everything. Your heart stops speeding and suddenly you realize you aren't alone after all. A simple promise of connection. 

 

This morning I went to an early, early doctor's appointment to get the results of multiple tests.  I slept fitfully and felt like I was tumbling and didn't know how to stop this feeling.  I got in the car and drove through rush hour traffic and arrived a bit early.  I sat on a bench outside the office building to inhale the morning air.  Across from me sat a young father and his precious toddler.  She was dressed in a pink dress with little white flowers edged in white eyelet lace and wore white sandals.  Her hair was light golden and hung on her shoulders and blew gently in the breeze.  She was mesmerized by something on the window next to the door leading into the medical building complex.  She would bend and stoop and look and slowly tip toe closer and closer until her forehead almost touched the window. For her, the entire world and her being was transfixed on whatever it was that held her attention so closely. It was then her father stood up and said, "Okay, let's go."  I could tell instantly that whatever had transfixed her did so with a pull that left her feeling she most definitely did not want to leave.

Her father headed to the car and called once again for her to come.  She turned to go and then turned back around. Then I saw it.  I saw what had captured her attention.  One single whirling, twirling, iridescent, silky seed pod from a willow tree. The gentle breeze kept it moving and dancing. The little girl walked away from it and then stopped in her tracks, turned to see it once more.  It was then that she lifted her right hand and waved goodbye to it.  No one else saw this, nor cared. But for me...my heart stopped. I felt that moment and the innocence of it with such an intensity that I wanted to cry.  I wanted to capture that scene and the little seed dancing, bringing to life a single breathtaking second and never ever forget it.

 

Perhaps that little girl was me.  Or perhaps I wanted her to be me.  And for that moment in time, I felt her joy, her breathtaking imagination and delight in seeing this one little white feathery seed float with such grace and beauty.  I too wanted to wave goodbye for fear I never would feel that way again, this loving alliance of grief and hope. A simple promise of connection! A moment that for that moment made all else disappear.