My Third World Is Not A Country

"Mom - fairies are real, you know" Bear said to me on a walk this morning. "Hmmm?" I answered. "Oh yes" she continued, "I went to check on my fairy house and all the food is gone. It was sticks and twigs and no-one would want that kind of food unless they were a fairy - so - now I believe."

Heaven and Earth -- The Seen and the Unseen

I talk about them all the time.
I write about them even more consistently.
They permeate my every thought.

I have three daughters: one in heaven, two on earth.

Two Worlds Collide was a working title for my book. A quick google revealed it was also a sci-fi novel and as much as my life experience may feel like science fiction at times, a book on grief and healing with the same name wouldn't really resonate with the literary public.

Regardless, for eight years I have worked to resolve the infinity sized gap between my two worlds. I have searched for earthly objects to represent the spirit form - grasping at their tangibility with my mortal soul, while crying oceans of tears knowing it would take a lifetime - my lifetime - to really narrow that chasm.

Perspective. It all comes down to the way we choose to see the world. This is what I told myself recently.

My two worlds are like a swinging pendulum in constant motion. There are moments, pinpointed seconds in time, when they collide with such force even I, moving in an opposite direction, cannot miss it. Time stops. Peace resides. All is right with both spheres - for a moment, a mere instant - we are a connected family. This I have made peace with. I no longer create questions or make up answers when these miracle moments come. I sit in them. In fact, my longing for them to stretch into forever is most probably what makes them dissapear. I can see them slip away, and feel the struggle return.

This has been my road, my two-laned highway for so long I don't even need to check lanes before passing. But this week, a third lane appeared. It came out of nowhere. It blind-sighted me with such force that I didn't notice in time. I crashed.

On Christmas Eve night I logged in to check my google reader. Ok there's no keeping secrets from you, is there? I logged in to see if Antigone had begun labor yet. And maybe that is why reading of Emilie's death reduced me to a sobbing mess. But if my all-consuming reaction could have been explained away by a diversion of focus, then I should be able to speak of it or even think of her now without tears. I can't.

I cried while asking for prayer at church for her husband, parents and boys.
I cried while writing my previous post regarding her loss.
I cry, now - writing this.

I know Emilie wasn't my third lane, but she represented it. She is the gorgeous spirit who knocked down the divider so I could finally see the world in triplet. Her death revealed how powerful this blogging community is to me. It cleared the fog allowing me to see past a rectangular computer screen and hear more than the clickety-clack of my partially grown nails on the keys. It brought my thirld world into focus - You.

I feel you. I feel the community. Apart from the occasional world tour or a decoration crisis, you have not seen the inside of my house, but you are here. I walk through my days and thoughts of you walk with me- I wonder if Stellan is breathing easier right now. ~ I hope Hope's Mama's non-traditional Christmas dinner is coming out all right ~ Wow! I wonder how many pre-sale copies of Lollipop's book have flown off the virtual shelf already. mingle with my typical (and boring) daily musings, I should get the mail before I go to town because there might be a check to deposit ~ What the heck am I going to feed my family tonight? ~ When will I get to watch the next episode of Brothers and Sisters? (yes Mel - I'm hooked)

Over the past four months you have become part of me. Your families, your tones of voice (or at least the ones I use when reading your words), your struggles and your rejoicing events walk through my days. But it happened so fast. It was like falling in love and not realizing it until a starry night when you looked into his eyes and nearly fell over.

Reading of Emilie's death knocked me over. I'm up. But I feel compelled to make you a promise - Never again will I underestimate the power of what we have. I cannot see you, but you are part of me. You are my third world.

"Bear" I said, crouching down so we were level - eye to eye - "Of course they ate the food. And I want you to know something. As you grow up - never forget - it is so important to believe without seeing."