I find myself once again in LA en route to Asia.
At exactly this time last year, my friend Kristin was in the City of Hope hospital having just received a bone marrow transplant with the hopes of saving her life. I stayed a couple of nights in the hospital with her, ponderous about the meaning of it all.
I am now sitting in her kitchen having spent some time with her widowed husband Jeff and her motherless son Simon. Kristin lost the fight in August. I wrote about it a bunch in earlier posts.
So this morning I wandered around her beautiful home, the one she so carefully crafted to be a place of comfort and joy. I took a picture of what remains of Kristin, her literal remains and her virtual ones together in one frame. I was there for her wedding. I was there for her death. And I am here now for her legacy.
Simon showed me last night how if he puts his hand on top of the vessel that holds her ashes that he can feel warmth all the way up his arm. He said it feels really good. I tried it and felt more of a shimmery energy.
I am of two minds this morning about the human spirit. Are we what we were? Or are we what we are? Is Kristin our memory of her or the dust in the jar on the shelf? I look for clues in her beloved art. Maybe she is the sea. Or those birds. Or those bugs. Or that ship. Or her son.
But luckily, somehow, I am aware of her steady hand as I prepare again to travel. And I am aware of the specific gifts she left, one of which I share with you here, below. She was a producer on this magnificent documentary in the last years of her life. She didn't get to see the end result, but I know she would have been proud of it. If you can, make a donation to the film via Kickstarter so more people can see this important work.