Onward, Upward.

A rain soaked October sky, I sit in the cold car and wonder about the shape her breath will take as she makes her way to wherever it is they are to meet. Sometimes when she talks about it you can see a muted tenderness, like a nerve rubbed raw, peeking out from behind the lion fangs. He doesn't understand how she can be so strong, how she can not be devastated by this. Lions have no time to dwell on hopelessness, there is too much good to fight for to waste your time like that. You will either get it or you won't, and if you won't you'll fall by the wayside. Life is hard and cutting. You are either a warrior or you live your life in fear of what may or may not happen.

I can see each footfall and the face etched in granite, my dad's doppelganger, we do what we have to do. She is strong because she has to be. Because she was born to be. I can't believe you would attempt to stand in the way of that. It seems criminal to me, not just how ignominious your requests have been and continue to be, but that you just can't see the greater end to which she aspires. Her name will be repeated for centuries in every circle that she's touched (and will touch) and you could have been a part of that. Sad that you will never understand.

Ad lucem.