Sometimes, words are not enough.  I think God gave us poetry, and sunsets, and feelings for the days when logic gives way to life, as it ebbs and flows around you.  There is another current that defines being alive, and it doesn’t fit neatly into sentences.

You just have to feel.

All the hope and the joy and the sadness, all the rises and the falls, and trust that another gust will come along to bring you back.

That even as you’re sinking, the swirls of lives and loves bumping into each other are always, always worth it.

This time I’m saying good-bye to more than our life, I’m saying good-bye to my family too.   I want to hold on to my babies, to feel their sticky fingers and messy hair, and the cuddle of their little selves lying warm in bed.  “Mom, don’t go.  Stay here with me.”

I want to say “don’t go” to my colleagues and friends at work too, where for three years we’ve laughed and cried, sharing worries and dreams, where every day felt so reassuringly un-alone.  There are only so many people who are worth holding close like that.   Heaven was kind to me in Vienna.

My whole heart wants to hold these moments as if they would never change.

As if my children won’t grow older and the people I love won’t die, and the goals I have for my life will stay worthwhile.

As if this end isn’t the beginning of something worse.

Just the beginning of something else.