Outside my window the storm has passed. There was silence. Silence as thick as the blanket of snow that fell during that night. I sat up on my bed and entered the stillness. I had no more questions. I had no answers either. But I was filled with grace. With an inward silence, blessed by my angel after wrestling in the dark. The faith of this family, resonating with the steps in the stairwell, had quieted my fear and taken me by the hand.
To love someone long term is to attend a thousand funerals of the people they used to be. It is not our job to hold anyone accountable to the people they used to be. It is our job to travel with them between each version and to honor what emerges along the way.