How is it that the world keeps going when your heart stopped?
How does the sun rise and shed warmth
and the earth spin on and my chest rise and fall with breath,
when yours is gone?
How strange that as you left,
stepping out of the fabric of all we see and feel and touch, into the next forever,
that we remain now here without you.
Like a cord cut and a tear shredding and a vacant ache opening, bleeding oceans into the chasm where you were.
Just a moment ago.
A life ago.
Here with us.
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The words that stand out are ‘like a cord cut’. The beginning of our time is marked by the midwife (or for one of our children) the father cutting the umbilical cord. The baby can get on with her own life – with the loving support of those around her.
Blessed as this life can be, we must be born again, and if we don’t understand that, Nicodemus had sleepless nights, trying to figure it out, and he a saint and learned man. He went to the source to find answers.
Easter blessings,
Will.
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