There's a moment when it hits us, the actual loss. And it can take awhile because the reality of never seeing someone again is hard to accept. It's the vertigo of infinity... Unknown parameters you know? But when it finally does it's like a small part of our world collapses in on itself and we're often left standing there, wondering what it all means.
Chaotic systems are a thing of beauty because they transcend what we expect of life. They feed on the motion of it, on its collisions and global anarchy, their trajectories unpredictable. Seeing so many people come together, of so many diverse origins—family, friends, neighbours new and old... All of us aware that we know each other through one single person, because of one single wing fluttering in the chaos; how powerful is that?
During the service Father Jack, her friend of fifty years, related his last story of her. She was staying at her son's house and had celebrated her youngest grandson's First Communion—she'd been saying for weeks how she needed to hold on long enough to see it through. Father Jack came over after the ceremony to perform last rites as she had asked. Control. always. Then they ate cake. As he was leaving she called back and said: "Fifty years... That's a pretty good run you and I." And then added "Well, see you at the funeral!"
Everyone laughed. So did I of course.
But that's when it hit me.
Some people see a grand design and perhaps it is indeed the root of it all. But I don't mind embracing randomness and simply believing in something that ultimately binds all of us in some way, with no destination other than the people we choose to travel with.
Butterflies, forever changing the course of this universe.