Not the Post I Wanted To Write

My cousin's husband slipped through the veil in the wee hours, when souls are restless and seem most likely to let go of their bodies and wander. 

She has not been silent during his long letting go.  She has shared the sublime, the gut wrenching, snapshots of their whole family's journey through his cancer.  From here, so far away from her, I've been a witness and I've prayed in my way.

Every day, every photograph, the same prayer.  "Oh, you gods of love and family, hope and healing, you gods of miracles and wonders, if ever there was a family that deserved a miracle, this is one.  Find one.  For them.  Good people, strong love, grace, transformation, determination, humor...find them a miracle."  The gods were silent.  There was no miracle.  When I pass through the veil, we will have words.

We don't talk a lot, my cousins and me.  We're kind of scattered, really, geographically, spiritually, philosophically.  Scattered, but how quickly we can coalesce when we want to, need to?  I like to believe there would be sonic booms.  Facebook has been our re-connecting point, and I'm grateful for it.

So.  What can I say about M?  Sadly, foremost is that I didn't know him well at all.  I think we spent a handful of minutes in the same room, long ago.  Never spoke after that.  No enmity, just...distance.  Just...life.  We were strangers, but in a distant, married-to-my-cousin kind of way I loved him.  He loved my cousin.  I love my cousin.  I want happiness...joy...for my family.  He made her happy.  For the sake of that alone, I'd have donned armor and fought dragons for him.

From where I sit, they had a good life, a good love, the kind of thing you can look at and maybe be wistful about.  Nothing is perfect, not even perfect love, but if there is love, and courage, perseverance, laughter, and an understanding that the rough times don't define, that things can be gotten through, wounds can heal...then perfectly flawed is as perfect as perfect gets.  They seemed to have that.

My cousin's strength and grace through the long, treacherous journey through his cancer have been incredible.

I can't write the details, the small things that they did to make each other crazy, to make each other laugh...I don't know about cuddles with their son, time spent with her daughter, or whether they danced around the living room in silly hats or any of the little things that make the larger part of a life.  I saw her photos on FB, her smiles and pride in her family, his struggle and determination to keep on fighting for what seems like a terrible, long time.  Photos of tender connection between the children, hands nesting in each other, smiles, and beneath it...sometimes...pain.  A sense of bone-deep weariness.  Struggle.  Will.  They didn't just give up, they had something worth fighting for.
Tiny glimpses of something marvelous, even towards the end.

He is and will ever be a part of the whole, always in my mind as her husband and father to their son.  Always and forever.

Hail, M.
Hail the traveler.
May your journey to the next world be swift and easy.
May you leave behind all memory of sorrow and pain.
May you carry with you all memory of love, of happiness.
May you be met with joy and fellowship by those who went before you,
And should you one day return to this life, may those who loved you know you again.
Hail, M.
Hail the traveler.

And FUCK!!!  CANCER!!!!!