I fell off the earth for two weeks. Tumbling and falling, feet seeking ground. With all that acceleration and gravity, I anticipated a hard impact - my support structure all busted and fractured. Instead, there was a soft thud, a couple of stumble steps and a sigh.
I've been "living at the edge of my eyeballs" (a phrase spoken by one of my wise sisters). Completely present, thoughts left in a silent place, experiencing every moment without distraction. Conversations sans electronics, schedules changing day to day, collaborating on the largest project I've ever been part of - the disassembling of parental lives and assets. After two weeks of task lists, learning curves, triumphs and tears, this collaborative team is seasoned. We are glued together in ways that make us each individually stronger. We have become formidable.
The soft landing at the end of my free falling is an unanticipated benefit of our collaboration. Instead of feeling like the rug was pulled out from under me, I feel firmly planted and supported. Sisters and husband and brother-in-law, son and daughter and niece and friends. Each stepped in to fill the empty shoes of a paterfamilias, and now those large shoes are fully occupied and solid. In death there is rebirth. And our family is made new again.
The piece above was created shortly before my free fall was inspired by the incredible photography of Steve L. Romero, a local photographer and capturer of beautiful moments. Check out Steve's work here.