“I always support people– especially women– in following their happiness,” she said.
Then, “I know you’ve been through this, too,” and she told me about the deepest sadness I’ve ever felt, so recent in her life.
I’m so thankful for women. For our attention and openness, for our ability, moonlike, to change and expand and disappear to the point of vanishing, always returning and able to dip back into the deep water of friendship.
I’m thankful, too, for the griefs I’ve known and managed to utter, because when they happened to me I didn’t know anyone who’d felt all the life run out of her, with nothing at all she could do about it, and that was a double loneliness that doesn’t have to repeat itself with anyone I love.
Connection and honesty and a walk in the woods together on a nearly too-cold day: we all end up refining our souls through fire or ice or both at once at least a few times. What a comfort to feel the women, past, present, and future, beside us as we do.