grief
Dear Ciara,
My mind is awash with confused feelings. I have spent a few days now reflecting on a conversation the two of us shared on the phone last week. You know the one, about the complicated nature of grief, especially when it comes to a colleague or somebody you once shared a community with. I lost somebody in my choir about a month ago now, but she is still at the forefront of my mind. While I didnāt know her well, or for even that long, I canāt quite process that she is no longer here. She still feels so very much alive.
I can imagine her laughing at me now as I write this. When I imagine her, I always seem to envision her slender frame dressed in black, sitting cross-legged at a mosaic table and, for some strange reason, sipping at a martini. I donāt actually know her drink of choice, but she struck me as the kind of sophisticated type to enjoy a martini. How would she feel about being labelled āsophisticatedā? Sheād probably laugh at me, again.
She was exuberant. One moment singing opera for us choir members after practice; the next, a silent space where she once stood. Last night, we revived a psalm from earlier in the year that she performed the solo for. As we sang it, I kept looking over my shoulder to see if she was there. Iām not sure how long it will take for me to process and realise that I will never hear her voice again. Grief is strange.
The song for today is:
As The Deer Longs ā Bob Hurd
This a rendition of Psalm 42/43 composed by Bob Hurd. It is the psalm she performed the solo for in our choir. I want to share it with you.
Love,
The Gardener