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When it happens to you, it happens to me…

So he left you yesterday. Believe me I know what its like. Its an “I can’t breathe, can’t sleep, can’t live without you,” kind of love that has been teared and taken away. Suddenly, but also predicted. 

We knew this day was coming but there’s nothing we can do to shield our hearts from the kind of heartache we will feel till everything comes together again. If I could, I would wrap your heart in tinfoil in hopes of protecting it from the smoldering fires of loss that is to come and has already set in, all the while digging its claws in deeper and deeper into the love you share. 

Who am I to feel your pain so deeply, as if it’s happening to me instead of you? Call me sensitive if you want. I don’t want you to hurt but when you hurt, I hurt too. Its so intense, so crippling, so unforgiving. The kind of unforgiving loss we only feel when half of our heart is somewhere else. Maybe half my heart is with you? Who knows…

But I never wanted this for you. I never wanted this for me. I’ve never wanted anything but the best for you. I want this to last in love for you but at times its just got to hurt instead. Either way I’m here and always will be. You know what they say, True friendship is two bodies dwelling in one soul.

The Changing Nature Of Grace

When I was young, grace was a swishy dress,

usually my mom’s, cool silk with beautiful patterns;

but sometimes grace lived in that young and holy mother, modestly veiled,

whom an angel in the bible hailed as “full of grace”

because she’d been chosen by God to have his baby son.

Then again, maybe Mother mary was graceful

because she could keep a secret. Was that why

we had to curtsy to her portrait in the front hall of our Catholic high school?

Or was it because she never complained?

Sine i never saw Mary walk, for years I imagined her

to be as swishy as my mom and her friends heading for a week-end party,

as swanlike as my ballet teacher tried to make me as well,

though pale pink tights and black leotards never held a candle to the outdoor adventures

my tomboy girlfriends and I craved.

Grace was confusing!…unless it was time for dinner. Then I gladly 

bowed my head to give thanks for the food on our table and

for all the hands that had brought it to us; thanks that we even

had a table and a home and money to buy food at all.

Grace as gratitude made sense to me.

Decades later grace and i are on friendlier terms. In face, my life often feels “shot” with grace, and many remarkably good things happen unexpectedly and seemingly without effort. But bad things happen too, so perhaps graces’s part is to provide perspective and a willingness to accept life as it is, without so much judgement. Grace has become the place i can drop into a t will to experience my okay-ness, and finding grace has become more a question of remembering than striving. Friends help. God helps. Even swishy skirts and dancing help. Grace likes to laugh! 

Mimi Farrelly  

February, 2011

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