Not much to say except this one thing: I am grounded and clean and sober. And for that I am humbly and profoundly grateful.
My neighbor, Peter, was found dead by my landlady (his partner) yesterday morning. As his door is about two feet from mine, I was startled by her screams and went next door. He was sitting in his easy chair, dead (since the night before, it turns out), with a syringe by his hand.
I held space for Kathryn to process this and supported her through the first couple of hours of this. What an amazing gift, to be able to priestess this moment in love and trust.
And, to be honest, what a shock to me.
I am so grateful for the love and support. I spoke to both of my sponsors. I went to two meetings. I sent news out on the witch email hotlines and got seventeen responses full of love and protection spells, all of which carried and comforted me through the day. A friend called me right back and held space for my ramblings. My sister made sure I was okay to sleep here before she could rest last night. My coaching clients and graphic design clients were kind and compassionate. I am loved and cherished and I love and cherish my peeps for holding such strong space for me.
With all this support, I was able to do some good priestessing. Listening, hugging, continuing to tell Kathryn that this is not her fault and that she couldn’t have prevented it. Taking one of my priestess necklaces and giving it to her to wear, telling her there’s lots of heart protection in it and she’s welcome to wear it for as long as she needs. That she’ll know when it’s time to return it. I smudged my house and doorway (the firefighters and police had a strong presence for hours, not to mention Peter’s body; it took over two hours before they removed him—he was sitting just on the other side of my red wall, which I face as I write this).
A candle of peace prayer and protection continues to burn on my altar. And I can feel the prayers coming in from my witch-sters and brothers. All is well. Life goes on. As does death. Blessed be.