Three

They say death comes in threes. And so I have observed.

I go to sleep gripped in fear now of the next one.

I think we have all endured enough, dear God. We cannot take any more. At least not for a few more years.

I think of A as I lay down to sleep, wondering how she must feel, the weight of her sadness overbearing, extending even to my own shoulders, pressing down on my chest. I wish I could help lift it from her. I do still love her deeply, as my dearest friend and life companion, one of the closest to me.

I see how she has forged a bond so strong with M and I am thankful. Thankful that she has now a rock to lean on when she cannot stand on her own. I mourn the loss of my place, that place in her life. Yet, I am strangely happy.

And you. You have become in this time of chaos, a still floating pontoon on which I rest whenever I feel I cannot tread water anymore. You have surprised me with your unassuming ways. And shown me that you will be there, weathering the storm with me, your fear on your sleeve, and your face braving it. You are truly courageous, in reality. It took me a while to understand that, but now I do.

Uncle J, we will miss you. We will miss you and we bear the weight of your absence together. Me from the periphery, just taking my turn to shoulder the stone disc of grief when those who shoulder it most are too tired.

We smoked a cigarette on J's grave today. I still think it's the best piece of real estate she has ever lived in!

I find joy in small things now. My mother's voice on the other end of the line. Leaning on my Dad while he reads. Spending time with my sister. And I understand, watching A and her siblings come together, how blood is thicker than water. How brothers and sisters, in the end, are what count in keeping family alive and well. And how elastic that notion can be, when it has to. How it can include, over time and with love, people who are not of your blood, but with whom bonds are so strong you will soldier on with them, through the mud of life and the gravel of grief.