On April 4th, I ordered my eclipse glasses in preparation for the 2024 Solar Eclipse. Although I knew that the best places to observe were Texas, Mexico, and Canada, I would be settling for my patio in Riverside, CA.

I donned my funky glasses and looked toward the sun which showed up as a fat, yellow crescent.

A solar eclipse occurs when the moon “eclipses” the sun. This means that the moon, as it orbits the Earth, comes in between the sun and the Earth, thereby blocking the sun and preventing any sunlight from reaching us. —www.britannica.com

 

What is eclipsed when my person dies?

 

When death occurs it steps in between life and me, blocking the light of life. Those five little words (in between life and me) contain the joys, sorrows, victories, struggles, dreams, goals, and the 1,629,139 minutes that have transpired since my beloved left the planet.

 

Words fail in describing what death eclipsed in our lives.

 

Astronomical moments, unforgettable family events, rainy nights under warm blankets . . . a tiny glimpse of what I’ve lost.

The struggle of figuring things out is stretching me when a large part of me wants to shrink.

Facing the unchangeable reality demands that I stand up to it.

How is this changing me?

Is it somehow creating me anew?

I am holding onto the 51+ years of love while grieving the loss every single day.

Is death teaching me that both things can coexist?

 

Maybe death is also an astronomical event.

 

That fat, yellow crescent has it’s own beauty.

 

Maybe death does, too.