18 May 2010


The Butterflies ~ Jesse Wilcox Smith
I spoke with her for the last time on a Friday afternoon, thinking she was well.  I heard the labored breathing, she said "I'm fine, don't worry". 

They called us on a Saturday, saying somethings wrong, get here quickly, we don't know what's happened.

We waited through a day and a night.  She, flying through the air to another hospital. We, abandoned on the ground to speed after her.

I saw her for the last time on a Saturday, pale and quiet.  Her, but not her.  Holding hands with my sister, praying silently, standing watch.

She left us on a Sunday while we celebrated the joy of another loved one.  We felt her leaving as we sat and smiled, on the outside only.  Quietly, just like her, not wanting to disturb anyone, without a sound.

She visited me often that first year in the form of a jeweled winged beauty.  Always appearing out of nowhere in the most unexpected places. Always nearby, just when I needed her.  She hasn't visited for a while, and I like to think she's moved on to someone who needs her more.

I'll look for her today, especially today.  We'll all be looking.  I'll miss her today, especially today.

(for SJM with love / 5 October 1962 ~ 18 May 2008)


  1. we can't live our life living the lives of others. but...
    it's good to remember - it's good to forget - and important to improve health care systems and global human development

  2. Anonymous19 May, 2010

    I knew you would write something lovely for our dear Susan & I couldn't bring myself to read it yesterday. Thank you for putting into words what I cannot express - I'm sure your winged beauty is soaring high & free. XO