First and Last (for now)

Little sweetheart, I was finally able to get back to that nice candlelight meditation service I've told you about. It's on Wednesday nights and I was going to go on my birthday but, of course, I was in the hospital. That was two months ago.

It had been ages and because they take July - September off, this was going to be the last one until the first week in October. I'm glad I went! It's about as far as I've walked since the accident - about 60 blocks round trip. It was really good to see some of the folks there, they're very nice, and to say quiet prayers and sing the chant-like devotional songs and to come forward to light a candle for you and to sit in the silence and the near dark during the centerpiece meditation of the service. Some sweet little birds were singing outside and if I hadn't already, I was quite certain then that you were near.

Part of the service includes readings, both secular and sacred. There's often a poem. They asked me to read Wednesday night's. It was called "Popovers" - again bringing you leaping to mind, as your special Summer Popovers recipe is right on the front of our fridge at home. It's a beautiful poem about love and dear ones and struggles and our desire to hold on to the precious things and... food! It's by Pam McAllister and is here:

What luxury, on this visit,
to hear rain falling in the woods,
then awaken to popovers,
like so many golden suns, spilling over
a birch-wood basket.
Our talk, too, spilling over and golden,
rises from a night of dreams and a universe
of books and memories, new ideas and old connections.
Here! we say, offering up a page of promise.
Listen! the morning air is filled with our reflections
as colorful and textured as the plate we pass
laden with melon wedges and strawberries
and unbelievable raspberries. We pose for pictures,
yearning to hold on to this moment, this abundance.
Outside, the air shimmers
and the only thing we know for sure
is that there are trials ahead for each of us
and for our world, our delicate, precious planet.
But at this table we have held each other’s hands,
offered thanks for all of creation,
and eaten our golden popovers
with butter and jam.

At the end, they welcomed me back and a few people came up to say hi. More than one, knowing that I had briefly left this life, said they were certain it was you, little sweetheart, who wanted me to finish just a few more things here before I join you.

I pray with all my heart to do as you would have me, to make you proud and, when the time is the time, to fly to your side again and forever. I'm filled with gratitude and love tonight, little sweetheart. Thank you. With all my love forever.