one third
by Kerry Worley
you lost one third of your life today. it slipped away from you like a feather in the wind, no second opinion, no chemo, no pumps or shunts, no internet search, no new medications, no prayer groups, no guru. just gone. giggling, warm, and alive at breakfast, and a different, terrible world by dinner.
you lost one third of all you bore, all you nursed, all you played with, cried for, laughed with, all you worried about. one third of all you took to the doctor, took to lessons, took to practice, cheered for, corrected, praised, educated, and loved. loved with all of your heart. one third of all you made plans for, all you had hopes for, all you would die for. one third of all you protected with all of the fierceness you could ever muster. gone at the whim of something unimaginable. one third of you is gone.
but Ellie was more than a third. more than just one of three children. she was, as all children are, everything. your baby, your only little girl. sweet,
good natured little Ellie. she was six. that’s one half woman and one half baby. diligent enough to practice the cello with the determination of someone much older, yet still finding her in your bed some mornings. she was a big presence in your life, much more than just a number, unquantifiable in your life, your home, your heart.
one third of you is gone, but not just one third. it wasn’t split evenly. it is the good parts. mostly your soul, but a good bit of your heart, too. even your mind and your strength don’t feel quite right. the good parts went with her, and the useless ones, arms, legs, face — all of which you would trade in a minute to have her back, are still here.
but one third is a fraction. it’s a part, and there is…another part. two thirds of your joy, your life, your vibrance are still here with you. and they are broken too. they are waiting on your strength so that they can get theirs. they will wait as long as you need for them to, but when you are ready, you will teach, and love, and cheer, and drive (with wheels and with will) — and you will, one day, find that there is a little spark of joy somewhere. it will grow, and you will start to get your soul back. it is winter now, but spring is coming. and you haven’t really lost yourself at all, it is just in mourning, and waiting to grow again. and although you’ll always miss her, always love her, never forget one little detail of her, you will be whole again.
[Editor: visit the Ellie’s Way website by clicking the image below.]
