We enter our dark Seattle apartment after a day of flying across the world. We mildly half unpack, we look at the internet, we go to sleep. The next morning, I wake up. The next morning is a week away from the beginning of a cascade of horrible news.
This morning is a week away from the memorial. This morning is five mornings away from flying much of the way across the country, for reasons I wish I could obliterate.
The anxiety rustling in my chest, in my throat, on the series of planes to Mandalay was not the usual travel apprehension. It was the bristles of a real fear: what if it happens when I am here? When I am all the way across the world?
Every time my phone managed to load gmail on the spluttering wifi, I keyed in her address. I gushed about my adventures. Do you know I always want you to know where I am in life, what I am doing and learning?
Death is the reality now, but what is this reality? What is it, really? Am I going to be taught more truths in Ohio? Is that possible, without you? Are we really without you?
When a spark of kind ferocity glints in me, I suspect the answer is no, not really.
I am not following. What happened? I does not sound pleasent though :(
Hey Hanne. I was being a bit vague… but one of my absolute favorite people, someone I was very close with, died last week. http://www.kenyon.edu/middle-path/story/kenyon-mourns-professor-natalia-olshanskaya/ I am flying out for her memorial tomorrow.
I read the link – she sounds like one of those amazing people that a few are really really lucky to get to have in their lives. What a blessing that she touched yours – and so many others- so profoundly. That is a legacy we should all strive for and appreciate when we see it.
Thanks for the kind comment. She really was a second mother to me and I doubt I’ll encounter her like again. But yes, I am really lucky to have met and become close to her! She really has inspired me in much of what I do.
I just discovered your blog, and I’m so glad I did
I also just discovered your blog. And it’s beautiful. I am sorry for your loss and I hope you can take something good from it. Hopefully you can make her proud and experience things for her.
Thank you. And I try to do so…
You put something so tragic very beautifully. I am really sorry for your loss! She is in a wonderful place now <3 Looking at your writing, you would have for sure made her proud! Thank you for sharing such a beautifully written piece.