(Originally posted at: http://calum.livejournal.com/65809.html)
Break the bowl —
instead of regret,
fall back into the potter’s hands
and be reborn
These are the first words in the book my friend Sarah gave me for Christmas. It’s a Charles de Lint novel – Spirits in the Wires – one of many de Lint has written set in the city of Newford. Newford is a magical place, where spirits and fairys walk the streets of an city, side by side with the homeless, gang members, and other urban inhabitants. It’s a world where art, music and writing can bridge the gap between human and other, and where magic is hardly ever noticed, but always present. Where the talented among us can reach for magic, but never quite reach it – only find small tastes that flavour our lives.
That’s the world Sarah lived in. She first shared that with me a dozen years ago, sitting on a large rock outside Crieff, when she told me about the fairy queen she’d shared her childhood with, and how she found it hard to believe in now, but very very much wanted it to be true. Everything Sarah touched was a little magical, and a little better for that.. but never quite as magical as she wanted it to be. I don’t think she ever quite saw, or believed, how much magic was around her.
She was also unaware, I think, of just how many lives she touched, how many people she influenced, changed.. and made life better for. I don’t think she knew, until very recently, how loved she was, by how many.
I spent a cold winter season with Sarah – she was taken into hospital in early December – and spent her Christmas, New Year, and birthday there.. before finally moving to the hospice, dying on January 9th. I spent as much time as I could with her – visiting nearly every day, while trying not to intrude on family space or overwhelm her. I was happy to spend a little time with her on Christmas Day. It was a priviledge to be able to see the New Year in with her and Syd, to watch the fireworks from the hospital window (honestly the best view in Edinburgh). I felt very special to be able to share her birthday cake, and be around her on that day too. I was able to hold her hand, talk to her, laugh with her, share stories – and say all the things I wanted to say. At times it was difficult for me – having lost my father to cancer only a year before.. but being with her made it easy, and warm – and that made it easy for me to be warm, and supportive to her. She shared her space with me, good and bad, allowing me to be there even if she was asleep.
She had so many friends visit, and I know she appreciated every one. One day I came in an hour after visiting hours started, to find her asleep, and notes from the eight people who had visited before me waiting for her. She hated having to turn people away, not just for their sake – but her own – but she wasn’t strong enough to see everyone, every time they visited. But with each visit, she understood a little more.. she was finally coming to understand how special, how loved, she was. That was a truly wonderful, magical thing to see and share – and every single person who visited her contributed to that. She died very loved, and knowing she was very loved.
I could write pages and pages about Sarah – why I loved her, why she was my “annoying little sister”, how we fell out (several times), how we always made up, the things we did together, the things we wanted to do together.. But those are thoughts that mean something to me, not to others. And the thing everyone will say about Sarah was – she was a different person to everyone she knew. If we put my memories, and everyone elses memories of her together, it would seem impossible that they were all one person.
But that’s magic for you – and everything about Sarah was like those de Lint books – real, but with that little twist of magical reality. Just enough to make you want more.
Now she’s in another place – and I’m sure I can see her smiling back at us – having found the true magic at last.
All my other posts about Sarah are saved here now: https://www.skirnir.com/seolta/