Sorry to hear of your loss.

I lurk on the outskirts of your world, reading snippets of your life as we speed along, writing not enough for you to know me at all. I did take some classes when Elephant was more robust, Redford was more playful, and you were seemingly free from worrying about being single. I dreamed of finding my voice, sharing with others, and of course, being of benefit.

But those were but flashed implications I collected quietly which passed as my life tumbled on as well. I found less and less time to dance around the elephant’s legs and was surprised to learn you were engaged, perhaps even more so surprised to learn you proposed on your knee as if marriage wasn’t to be an equal decision and action between two people instead of a thing you offered to another. But I had little time to write and already felt left behind enough to feel uncertain about how you would take any of my questions or comments, so held my peace (piece) and swallowed my words.

I wrote tiny condolences when I saw the sad news of Redford passing. You wrote of such a dear friendship. It struck me even as I welcomed a new furry friend into my home and heart. I contemplated your thoughts on pets and food and planet-saving and thought things that may have been of benefit to some. It brought me closer to the grey family briefly, but the breath for the voice of mine was already blocked by my fist. My focus away again in my own narrowing world of separation leading to divorce.

I wanted to reach out somehow when I read of you arguing on the way to a friend’s house and standing on the porch sounding more lost than I had ever experienced in my fleeting acceptances of your raw offerings of your visibility. I cried inside as I saw the once growing herd of Elephants shrink and struggle to stay alive – for you, your efforts, the tangled relationship, and mostly for the ones fallen from the memory. I didn’t write, I didn’t speak, instead tightening my hand across my mouth.

I saw a hint of your alone-ness recently and quietly wondered, while tumbling, tight-lipped and bound-fingered towards the welcomed completion of the divorce process. Saddened to read the reality of it all today, but in my short peaks at the pachyderm parade, and in focused look at my own home, I may have seen enough to not be particularly surprised.

Still, as you said, loss is loss. I hear you.

Your vulnerability eases the grip of my fingers across my mouth. Your heart-sharing inspires mine. Loneliness is shared and in so doing melts the edges. May your community of known and unknown friends be healing salve to coat the aching heart enough to let the joy slide in along side and ease your transition to each tomorrow. Thank you so much for writing.