It's been a week, (and what seems like a lifetime), since I've written and there are no words to convey the raw beauty of life and the honor that comes with bearing witness as my sister prepares for the journey from this life to whatever is next.
My little family flew up to Vancouver for a long weekend to say goodbye. It did my heart so good to have them here; to be able to breathe in the scent of my beana, to have my M to lean on in my worst moments. Their visit giving me the strength to continue forward with momentum; understanding that my desire to garner control over something, anything, shall pass.
Because the one thing I know to be true: I have no control. I can't say how it's going to be, or how I'm going to feel, even on a day to day basis. Life is surreal and technicolored and I look forward to spontaneous visits to the hospital, a cherished hour alone with my sister.
Today, an early morning breakfast with a dear heart and too many cups of caffeinated beverages. And then, breakfast at a sweet cafe, arriving just as it opened. My breakfast simple and delicious: poached eggs and gluten-free bread with the slightest hint of cinnamon. Ah-mazing.
In between the tasks and the moments when I'm certain I will break, I stop and breathe, finding myself again and again behind the lens; seeking to make my world normal when it's anything but.
