With each lovely and amazing friend I've told the news to here in Southern California there is a fresh crop of tears harvested between us. I awoke with swollen eyes.
For the first time in my life I see these tears as a function: they are carrying me somewhere new. I am not lost in the emotion of pain, I am literally moving in a direction and without the added salt water perhaps I would have a hard time slipping through the constricted places into my new life.
I never realized how much I love so many many many people. I have barely begun to say my goodbyes. The comfort is that it's only a 400 miles trip away: I can and will return often for many reasons, not the least of which being music or the chance of a good craft fair.
Katherine, my dearest friend who made Anthony and I man and wife, discovered and sent me a piece of an article that talked about Petaluma being one of the few places with solid bedrock beneath it: earthquakes aren't felt with severity there.... is that amazing or what?
Everyone so far has offered their couches or guest rooms upon my return, which is heartening, and I have a tour with Matt and Phil in late May/ early June, so there's a ton of things to look forward to in terms of the connective tissue between my new home and Los Angeles.
I just have to keep floating down this river of tears until something comes into view that I can make familiar once again. It is one of the most beautiful and stark pieces of our emotional life: grief is not always a welcome visitor, but it makes us who we will be as gently and quickly as it needs to.