Out of Darkness: Lost in Loss

Thirty years ago, October 31, 1981, I became a part of something that happens once in a lifetime - if ever at all. I married Vernon Lee Corbitt - 31 years my senior, a lover, friend, soulmate. In a soft-spoken Southern drawl he had me at, "Hey, there." We loved, we built, we lost people, we lost a home, we rebuilt, we did everything. Together. Mostly, we laughed. It wasn't a roller coaster, scary ride. It was a feather down comforter - easy. It worked. In spite of everything, it worked really well.

Our last anniversary together, he gave me a huge amber spider - it being Halloween and we went to the grocery store. We locked the keys in the truck along with the groceries and sat, bewildered, in the parking lot trying to think of how we would get home. We laughed. We got a ride home and laughed. The house keys were securely locked in the truck with the groceries.

We laughed. Got the spare key from the lockbox on the back wall, retrieved the spare truck key and had two rides by now. We got the groceries home. And we laughed. So fitting.

We celebrated a 72nd birthday two weeks later on November 15, 1998, but would not see another. 

At 10 pm November, 26, 1998 - Thanksgiving, you turned to me in the ICU and told me you loved me for the last time. The laughter stopped.

I brought your ashes to Anhinga Trail - a peaceful slice of the Everglades. You are but a memory, a space in time. If I hesitated I would have missed it all. So glad I was part of something so right. 

"Goodnight, Sweet Prince; and flights of angels sing thee to thy rest..."

© DD Corbitt

Out of Darkness: The wonder of Night

When I was a child, I would look up at night and find the North Star. My eyes followed the star to the familiar constellations set against a vivid backdrop of the Milky Way. As I aged, the Milky Way disappeared into the glare of nighttime lights from cities and suburbs linking the nation together like an anchor rode. No longer was the Milky Way visible as city lights were always too  close.

The North Star gave way to Orion as I moved South. Finally, so far South that the Southern Cross could be seen above the horizon from any bridge in February. A trade off: The North Star for Orion's belt.

When I took to sail from Bimini to Freeport, I rode out a particularly rough night on the lee side Of Great Isaac - long ago abandoned, said to be haunted and home to gulls and flies by the hundreds. 

If you believe the tales, the last two lighthouse keepers simply disappeared. Or they were found murdered. As is part of the Bahamian lore, not one story is substantiated, yet all are known truths.

Alone, but for a small freighter,hugging the deep water coast for protection from the wind and below the guiding light of the torch, I batted flies and fell asleep. I awoke by the bright light that filled the cabin.

Dashing up the companionway to the deck I saw something astounding: The Milky Way! In all its splendor...Orion, the North Star, both Dippers, Casiopia The Seven Sisters and oh so much more. But the Milky Way...So bright that it had depth. I reached out to touch it... it was so close. 

The next time I would get to rest my eyes on such beauty would be in the Arizona desert several years later.

Never lose sight of the stars, never be satisfied with what is. Always reach for something more. And, every once in a while, look up...

© DD Corbitt