Thinking There Is One More Stair

A dear friend, Jan, died in a car accident over five years ago. I still have not had the heart to move the photos I have of her and her husband into an archive. Without the ability to explain it, even moving them from the directory where they reside is a discomfort even now I am not ready for.

There are two voice-mail messages on my phone from a friend of over 35 years. Bill passed away about two years ago. I know I need to save the audio onto a disc, but disturbing them from where he left the messages is not something I am ready to do.

One of the best friends of my life, Mac, died in 1993 and it was ten years before I got around to collecting together my mementos and photos of his life. I was not ready previously to store them away.

In all three cases, it wasn’t an unwillingness to let go of a person I loved and accept their death. Rather, leaving things where each placed something or as they created them was a private tribute to people who have special places in my heart. Past that I can’t explain it.

At the end of August I blogged about a poem I found purely by coincidence which was particularly meaningful written by an ordinary person I knew nothing about named Sherry Potter. The connection to her brought about thought the efforts of my friend Doug helped create a permanent place in my heart and mind for her. At the time it gave me solace that she was a surviving fighter of cancer. The story is contained within these two blogs:

About two weeks ago I received an email about Sherry from a family member  who found my email address on her computer. Sherry Potter passed away on November 6, 2012 within about two months of the contact she and I had. While I barely knew her, we did connect and I feel a sense of loss. I put off writing about her death and only this morning did I look again for the email from a family member. Sadly I apparently deleted it accidentally. As Best I recall from the email her poem was written about a man she was married to at one time, but never got over. Most all of us have those we loved, who for one reason or another, moved on in life without us. With that having happened to me more than once, I especially related to Ms. Potter’s poem “Ghosts”

I dance in the moonlight and your ghost in my arms dreaming of what might have been.

I hope that life has been kind to you and that I am not forgotten.

I send warm breezes to kiss your lips that I cannot reach and I envy them.

Time and space has taken their toll, but the memory of you and our lost love lives in the secret places of my heart.

We cannot know what the fates have in store for us as the future has yet to be written.
I wonder, will the paths we choose bring us back to each other or further apart on divergent paths, never to meet again in this life.

I only know that my memories of you warm me like a soft blanket against winters cold grip, comforting me when I feel I can no longer stand strong against the hardness of life.

We will not waste our precious time on ‘what ifs’ but yet in fleeting moments they invade my thoughts without invitation and that is when I dance in the moonlight with your ghost in my arms.

Mixed in with my sadness, is gratitude to have bumped into her, ever so briefly, in this life. May you forever dance happily in the moonlight Sherry Potter: November 4, 1941 – November 6, 2012.

It is a curious thing, the death of a loved one.
We all know that our time in this world is limited,
and that eventually all of us will end up underneath some sheet,
never to wake up. And yet it is always a surprise when it happens
to someone we know. It is like walking up the stairs to your bedroom
in the dark, and thinking there is one more stair than there is.
Your foot falls down, through the air, and there is a sickly moment
of dark surprise as you try and readjust the way you thought of things.
Lemony Snicket