I Won’t Be Surprised

Today I enter year 78.  Sixteen months and a day after my beloved’s departure.  Not three weeks in my new home.

Last night I was guided to watch “This is It,” the documentary of the three-month rehearsal of what was to be the capstone tour of Michael Jackson’s career, which of course didn’t occur because of his death.  I say “guided” because Michael was one of Dear’s favorite performers, and I’m confident she instigated our birthday-eve concert: a celebration of love energizing body, mind and spirit.  This morning I awoke to her saying to me, “I’m so proud of you.  I love you so.”

The power of the depth of silence and solitude I feel in this life I’m entering––the tremendous gift of it––leads me to wonder whether Dear could see this outcome, or at least the potential of it, and so to some small extent was happy to die to contribute to its manifestation.  

This wasn’t at all “why” she took her life, though I sense that her understanding of her death’s impact on me of deepening my commitment to God Alone relieved any inhibitions related to me she might have had about leaving.  

Now that I am growing daily in my appreciation of the depth and beauty of that impact, it crosses my mind that, if she could foresee what I’m experiencing, she might very well have said, “To leave this body behind in this incarnation so that you, my beloved, might know God ever more fully is a sacrifice I easily make.”  

Whether that was indeed the case I’m unable to say at this time.  But if someday I discover it was, I won’t be surprised.  

She’s a raw flame

A live wire

She prays like a Roman

With her eyes on Fire

“Josie”

Steely Dan