Jellyfish

A friend pointed out to me that avoidance of this blog is self-centered laziness.
Plain and simple.
She wasn't trying to say this to me.  She merely reminded me of my own principles.
One of which is this:

If I pray for myself only, I will spin in circles.
If I pray for the ability to be useful to those around me, I will receive more than I could ask for.
I will also be freed from the painful and fruitless obsession with my own self.
My prayer does not need to change.  I do.

Thank you for your email L.C.

So now I will tell you a story:

Standing at the kitchen sink trying to justify not eating today.
The warm water laces through my fingers long enough for a pause.
I smile.
I have forgotten once again.
Peace is not in the repression of appetite.
It is in the gentle handling of it.

Sophie at the Vegas meet - looking very much like her Dad.

I spent last weekend in Las Vegas with my 10 year-old daughter Sophie.
She competed in an enormous gymnastics meet.
The arena was a beehive of bouncing bodies in tight sequins and spandex.
Sophie's dad was there.
For years after our divorce, his face was impenetrable granite.
Now I sit next to him as she cascades the floor and tilts her chin up sharply as only gymnasts do.
We were there when she fell off the beam and cried afterwards.
We were there, not together, but side by side.

We sat at the same table when the team went to the Garden Buffet inside the casino.
I ate cocktail shrimp, sushi and olives.
I hugged my limbs up tightly at first, but then relaxed when I realized, I knew this place.
I watched him swallow jalepeno peppers and suck the heat back through his teeth.
His body bunched up and he put a fist to his lips.
He is a boxer about to throw a knock-out punch, but he knows he's not supposed to in public.
I throw my head back and laugh with eyes closed.
His mannerisms are familiar.
I have seen him do this 100 times, yet he is always shocked to find that jalepeno peppers are hot.
I still enjoy who he is.

The next day we took the girls to the aquarium.
I stood, fists in pockets, hypnotized by the jellyfish.
Their delicate peach ripples are indiscriminate of up and down.
They float and spin like slow-motion kites.
My eyes fill with tears.
I try to keep them in, but I let the sadness fill me.

I am never here.

I never get to parent Sophie with her Dad.
She is so much of him and so much of me.
I love them both.
She never gets to be surrounded by the two people who adore her the most.
She only gets one at a time.
I used to think this was my fault.  We all thought it was my fault.
On the other side of blame and anger and regret is a sadness.
Not a bad sadness, just a vast space where jellyfish would float.

I linger behind the group.
I pass Jeff in the dark.
I want to tell him all that I understand now.
Instead I sit on the bench in the aquarium tunnel and watch the sharks swim over my head.
I take slow steady breaths.
Don't wish this away, Sarah.  Feel this.  It is your grief.  You have earned it.
True grief is precious, and not easy to come by.  It is a beacon.
It shows me what is important.

Sophie and her Dad in our house the year before
our divorce - 2005 - this family is still important.