On Christmas day just passed, Trish left her body to become purely spirit.
Even while in her body, she was mostly spirit anyway. She lived as we all wish to live--fully, completely, radiating love, patience, understanding while being playful, curious, provocative, confident, and fun. She ran at life with arms wide open, head tilted with a sly smile. She was wisdom shared by stories and always by showing. I learned how to be a more compassionate and understanding parent just by hearing how Trish kept a spare pair of tights at her day-home for Lauren to wear when the posse of kids were going outside on a cold day when Lauren had worn pants to Trish's.
Apparently even at 4 years old Lauren had definite ideas about what she wanted to wear, and pants were too bunchy and scratchy under snow pants. Tights and skirts were "it". So instead of having a debate about it, Trish honoured Lauren. So easy to do, but how often do we try to impose our will, our logic on little people? Big people too.
I have spent so little time with Trish that I didn't know the names of all her children, nor her father or mother. At her funeral on Saturday I spent an hour in the company of her closest friends and family, heard their stories and saw pictures of this remarkable person in life.
During the celebration, my stepdaughter, now 12 years old, sat on my lap and sobbed. Her mouth making "cuh cuh cuh" sounds while her body hiccupped with grief against mine. That too was a gift from Trish. That intimate sharing that comes with fully holding someone.
Each time I freed my left hand from being clasped under Lauren's to wipe tears hanging onto my cheek, Lauren would pull my hand back down under hers as if to complete our circuit.
Our "rainbow connection" just like Kermit sang at your funeral,Trish.
I won't forget you Trish. You were here to change lives, and you did it with beauty and grace. What grace! Thank you.