Turn, Turn, Turn

Yesterday was the release of My Other Ex: Women’s True Stories of Leaving and Losing Friends. It’s a beautiful collection, penned by many gifted writers. What an honor it is to share these pages with them. I’ve been so privileged to be included in two inspiring 2014 anthologies. My cup runneth over.

Of course, as the title suggests, this essay was not an easy one to write. And in the midst of the excitement of publication day was the ever-present feeling of loss — no longer sharp and painful, but there nonetheless. Given my choice, I would rather have had nothing to write about for this particular anthology.

But… life.

And yesterday, one of my dearest friends lost her father. It was a heartbreaking day, filled with tears and heaviness. There is so often a feeling of helplessness with such loss. I’m too far away to cook meals or to shuttle kids or to share stories over a glass of wine. I want to hug my friend and hold her close, but there are many miles in between.

The funeral is this weekend, and we will be traveling with Sam for his final college visits. My heart will be in two places, but my body can only be in one. So, I will walk with my almost 18-year-old as he tentatively makes his way into the next phase of his young, promising life.

My son will soon leave this nest.

My friend will be held by other friends until I can return and do the same.

Today, my mom undergoes more medical testing for new, mysterious symptoms. The doctors will test and we will wait and the kids will come home from school and I’ll cook dinner and Chris will teach class and tomorrow, we’ll do it all over again…

Or we won’t.

Perhaps tomorrow will bring something new and unexpected, something welcome or not.

Because no matter how much we’d like things to remain the same, they don’t.

To every thing there is a season.

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5 thoughts on “Turn, Turn, Turn”

  1. Turn, Turn, Turn — a biblical passage rewritten sweetly by Dylan. Around here, we have three others. Forever Young, more Dylan. Long May You Run, Neil Young. And, I’ll Fly Away… and old spiritual sung at the celebratory conclusion of a jazz funeral.

    Today. They are yours. 🙂

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