How do you say goodbye when it is too soon?

Lessons abound this weekend- I shed tons tears and hugged many friends.  Yesterday, I went a Homegoing Celebration for a student I knew from last year.  This was a memorial service for a young woman who recently lost her battle with leukemia.  As tragic as this event is- what I witnessed was authentic thankfulness and celebration.  Above all, I was most humbled by the girl's mother and her genuine grieving.  Outreached were her arms; raised to receive divine healing and love.  I heard her howl and groan with the anguish that only accompanies the loss of a child.  

That same pain resonated in a deep place within me- a place that was initially carved out this summer as we waited for Miles' heart surgery.  In giving birth, you must accept the reality of death.  Not that morbidity was anywhere in my brain prior to delivering Miles- but when I first felt his breath on my skin, watched his eyes flutter in reaction to the bright hospital lights- I knew that he was a gift that I could not own.  Granted, I could do everything in my power to ensure that he remains healthy and happy.  But ultimately, I knew that his life did not belong to me.  As our summer toiled away in agitated impatience, his fragility only weakened my sense of control.  I had to hand over that desire, that need to call the shots, to a higher power.  I was revisited by those feelings of relief and release as I watched this girl's family live in the moment of their sorrow and yet, have the strength to mark the occasion as something to celebrate.

Yesterday, I saw a mother, in her tears and smiles, say both goodbye and thank you.  Goodbye to her daughter.  Thank you for the time they got to spend together.  You better believe I went home and held onto Miles, planted kiss after kiss- as if the shear power of my love could keep the scary times away.  I awoke this morning with a new perspective.  It would be a waste of our time if I spent everyday worrying about the what ifs- the time spent afraid would take away from the time spent in joy.  God forbid if anything should happen to Miles- but if the unthinkable were to happen, I pray that I would have the strength to accompany my grief with honest, heartfelt thankfulness.   

The last thing I expected to feel at the memorial service was inspiration, but I did.  I anticipated the tears.  Experiencing joy and hopefulness was a much welcomed surprise.