While she struggled to live I lived in the space of fierce prayer for her total recovery. I also entered the space of indignation that this could happen to her, to me, to all of us. All has been possible, all will be healed. After the news of her death I spent several days in the helpless sadness of a motherless child. That has passed, and I now find myself in a space of metaphor and meaning making.
Some people wring their hands.
So here is what I find myself thinking about. . . She'd staved off the Dartmouth winter flu until a little relaxation allowed the whole dump to descend on her body. Besides, she loved it all and wasn't about to stop. So an unsustainable state built up in her body, and she didn't intervene. Then one small thing went wrong.