Bestowing a Gift

For life, too, is only the dissolving of our souls into the souls of all others, as if bestowing a gift. Only a dream, only a life, only wedding noises soaring in through the window. – Dr. Zhivago, Boris Pasternak

We married in the fall, and I remember the year of decisions leading up to the ceremony. Some didn’t require much thought. We wanted to be married at our college chapel, for example. Some bordered on silly. How large should the ball of cheese for the cocktail hour be? My husband definitively weighed in on the side of the more, the better. And, some reflected what we wanted to share with our guests from the idealistic place of young love.

At the end of Dr. Zhivago, there is a chapter that contains poems written by the title character, Yuri. While I am quite sure this quote is a loose translation from one of those poems, its sentiment has stayed with me all these years.

“…It was as if some soul set loose birds with wishes for long life to overtake the wedding party. For life too, is only the dissolving of our souls into the souls of all others, as if bestowing a gift. Only a dream, only a life, only wedding noises soaring in through the window.”

It captured the love and happiness we felt, the unspoken promise of a happy future. So, we had it letter-pressed on soft ivory stock, an invitation not only to the ceremony, but to join in this feeling of love so universal that it had no choice but to soar.

And, for a while, we did. There were the milestones years of marriage bring – babies, job changes, navigation of life’s ups and downs. Even in the dives, there was always a rise. Until there was not, and disease intruded, and the challenge seemed to outweigh the joy. One foot in front of the other, one day at a time. Soaring wasn’t part of the equation, survival was.

Recently, I remembered this poem while hearing the noises of a wedding come through the window of a quiet bed and breakfast. The laughter and merriment brought back memories from a family wedding we attended the week after my huband’s funeral. An outdoor reception after a thunderstorm, our kids dancing well into the thick, humid night, laughing with the bride and groom and family and friends, free.

These glimpes come frequently enough to help me see we are all an integral part of that larger love, that melding of souls into the souls of all others, a joy that rises even in the midst of deep sorrow. And so we remain connected in a way that cancer cannot disolve, that disease cannot steal. The best parts live on in mind and in soul. And therein is the beautiful gift that allows a chance, again, to soar.