A year ago today, a dear friend died. RED are her initials. We are remembering her in grief and thanksgiving, sadness and joy, hope and prayer. This poem is my offering.

Once, in the corner of your eyes I caught a glimpse

of all you knew,

of all that you were living:

Your living and your dying were both alive in you

And still you smiled.

I watched them cut and staple and dig golf ball sized holes in your head

And prod and poke and dose and test

And still you smiled…

All the while wearing that ugly incision, barely covered

and a smile that lit the room.

Little slip, slowing small-ing,

your spirit soared until you seemed to me larger than life.

How we each wanted to reach you

and catch you and keep you in it–

Life.

I wanted to scoop you off the sofa and run away,

smash through the glass and keep on running

into life…

But on the day I knew you could not be here anymore,

On that long, miserable day of losing, and leaving;

I looked our Lord square in the eye and I said

How can you even call yourself God?

Only then I knew it wasn’t God I wrestled with,

because he was busy with you wholly, cradling you in his precious arms and carrying you

healed

and home.

Red was always my favorite color anyway.