The one that moved away

As usual, my topic is always one I could write volumes on (and it usually ends up that way, much to the chagrin of my small band of readers who endure my lengthy prose.  This one is personal. Maybe personal to you all as well. The other night I pulled up my “fishin” chair in the front lawn and took in the full moon as it uncloaked itself through the passing the pre-storm clouds and just stared.  This was/is a habit I have had over the last 52 years. Why “52”? Because that’s when I started growing up with an old/eternal soul mate of mine.   Her name is Kathy, and we met in school and were in band together. We were sort of boyfriend/girlfriend thing, but much more than that, we were soul mates. We could talk about anything and everything and enjoyed our friendship way beyond our friendship and smooching (btw intimacy by mutual consent ended there) with a soulmate parting hug and a small kiss which sometimes lasted a little longer than we intended. This friendship lasted through 3 subsequent marriages, and she moved to West Virginia, where she returned to her childhood home because her dad opened a restaurant there, and she hated it.  We later (after I mastered E-mail) would infrequently write back forth.  A few years back, I’d catch up with her in West Virginia on my way through to upstate NY to celebrate my daughter’s birthday, spend the night either at the Stonewall resort or at her mom’s house. The night would break up the long trip back to Florida, and old deep-thinking soulmates could spend some time together talking about everything and anything. We’d share a room but always in separate beds so that the conversation ended with one or both of us falling asleep. I’d get up early to get on the road, we’d part with a hug and one of those kisses that lasted a bit too long, and I would go back to Florida and home to my incredibly loving and understanding wife.
She understood and trusted me that this was one thing that was personal and treasured by me and allowed me that special solitude. On the other hand, Kathy went through heroin during her college years, got married, and had a daughter and a beautiful grandchild but a failed marriage. 

She embraced Jesus, and I had recently returned to Christ after a sabbatical of not being of the world but in it.  We would commonly look up at the full moon when together and use that to keep us together over the miles and times of separate places. She became very sick and, on the way back from a trip west to Arizona, I stopped in Dallas, where she was being treated for some ailment that I don’t remember.  We talked as I watched her frail body on a bed.  We hugged and prayed together for her recovery and gave thanks for each other.  She asked if I could stay the night with her, but I declined and headed back to Florida after one final kiss and hug that didn’t last long enough.  Even though I reached out to her with E-mails and a phone call or two, I never heard from her again. I thought maybe the closeness was too much for her, or she just got remarried and found someone and moved on.  Through a chance encounter on Facebook about 3 months ago, her cousin let me know that she had passed years earlier.  I grieved under the full moon but had closure.  I look up at the moon periodically, and she moved away again but not to West Virginia but a way better place.

Maybe I’ll see you again someday, my soulmate.

A final thing for you all to ponder.  Have you ever had a soulmate move away or “way away”?  Maybe this message will comfort you in having that experience, whether it be now in whatever station in life you have, be it in marriage or beyond.  Treasure it.  Give thanks to the Lord for truly this is a gift that never “moves away.”