To a church full of grieving, sobbing, hurting people, Music came with the intent to comfort, thoughtful Words came with a desire to heal. Both tore through scars, new and old, both picked scabs off wounds, new and old, both hurt. Tears flowed freely. Both caressed and soothed, both touched a place deep within.

Music and Words shook hands with Grief and Sorrow, who filled the space, gently nudging them to the back of the room.

Both melted hearts and amalgamated everyone into one. A bereaved mother spoke most lovingly about her son and of her resolve to spend each moment of the rest of her life loving and being loved. A bereaved daughter spoke of her newfound ability to cherish the beautiful memories of her mother with a smile, after more than 6 years of her mother’s sad death. A young man spoke of his struggles with Bipolar Disorder. Everyone listened and felt with all their being.

Once again I watched life play out in front of me from a distance as if on a film screen. What was I doing there? It looked like I completely belonged to this community. It looked like I was happy to be there with so many lovely people. The exchanges were deep and meaningful. The hugs and smiles were more real than real. But, who was this person? Who was she and who am I?

The Aliens – by Charles Bukowski:

you may not believe it 
but there are people
who go through life with
very little
friction or
distress.
they dress well, eat
well, sleep well.
they are contented with
their family
life.
they have moments of
grief
but all in all
they are undisturbed
and often feel
very good.
and when they die
it is an easy
death, usually in their
sleep.
you may not believe
it
but such people do
exist.
but I am not one of
them.
oh no, I am not one
of them,
I am not even near
to being
one of
them
but they are
there
and I am
here.