Many years ago, a dear friend married her lover and that night, with much dancing, champagne, and well wishes, I toasted them with quotes from Kahlil Gibran:
"Let there be spaces in your togetherness, And let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another but make not a bond of love: Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls. Fill each other's cup but drink not from one cup. Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf. Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone, Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music. Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping. For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts. And stand together, yet not too near together: For the pillars of the temple stand apart, And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow."
She is a strong, vibrant, talented athlete, runner, and dancer. She was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer almost a year ago, quickly losing weight, mobility, and partially her eyesight. She passed a few weeks before her 43rd birthday. I spoke at her memorial and dedicated more selected Kahlil Gibran along with memories of her life:
"You would know the secret of death.
But how shall you find it unless you seek it in the heart of life? The owl whose night-bound eyes are blind unto the day cannot unveil the mystery of light. If you would indeed behold the spirit of death, open your heart wide unto the body of life. For life and death are one, even as the river and the sea are one...
For what is it to die but to stand naked in the wind and to melt into the sun? And what is it to cease breathing, but to free the breath from its restless tides, that it may rise and expand and seek God unencumbered? Only when you drink from the river of silence shall you indeed sing. And when you have reached the mountain top, then you shall begin to climb. And when the earth shall claim your limbs, then shall you truly dance."
That weekend of her memorial I cuddled her mother. I cuddled her son, my godson. I cuddled her husband and held him while he cried. We spent time in silences, other times in laughter, other times in memory that we'll carry with us through hard days. None of us had/have a proscribed faith, but all of us grieving are comforted and know she is no longer in pain. I like to think of her cuddling this whole world, holding us a little closer. Holding me. I like to think too that she's now free, dancing to every whim. Dance, my friend. Dance.