Earlier this week, my cousin passed away. Death seems to take us by surprise--even when it is expected. But, no one was prepared when it came silently for Lisa. Only thirty years old, she was in the prime of her life when her heart failed, leaving a loving husband and three little children.
Mary Oliver wrote in her poem In Blackwater Woods that, "To live in this world, you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go....to let it go."
This has been a week of tears--for her husband and children, for her siblings and parents, for all who knew Lisa. She was an angel of sorts, always smiling, always ready to help. Goodbyes seem impossible, because she is everywhere evident. Perhaps, though, we can loosen our grip just enough to let her go. Maybe the great expanse of humankind awaits a glimpse of true goodness--something lovely Lisa provides.
Mary Oliver wrote in her poem In Blackwater Woods that, "To live in this world, you must be able to do three things: to love what is mortal; to hold it against your bones knowing your own life depends on it; and, when the time comes to let it go....to let it go."
This has been a week of tears--for her husband and children, for her siblings and parents, for all who knew Lisa. She was an angel of sorts, always smiling, always ready to help. Goodbyes seem impossible, because she is everywhere evident. Perhaps, though, we can loosen our grip just enough to let her go. Maybe the great expanse of humankind awaits a glimpse of true goodness--something lovely Lisa provides.
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