I hung on to that relationship like no other in my entire life. I fought hard for its survival and once beaten and torn I was forced to admit defeat. He was gone and gone for good this time. Unable to accept its ending I didn't believe life could get any worse.

It was very early in the morning in California when i heard my daughter's frightened voice over my phone's messaging machine, "I think we are under attack! Mom, wake up and turn on the news. Call me as soon as you get this." I bolted out of bed and ran downstairs. My best-friend (roommate) and her parents (who were visiting at the time) were glued to the CNN broadcast. What the hell? The twin towers burning? I was so shocked by the sight of it I could not hear the journalist. Then, in front of my eyes I watched behind the journalist as the jet approached. I remember thinking does the man not know what is going on behind him? Then the explosion. Like the rest of America I became numb, horrified. Thoughts of Orson Wells and aliens jumped to mind. I no longer owned a gun. Would I need a gun? Maybe I should get a gun?

Months past, still not recovered, when the knock presented itself on my door. Who would have the nerve to knock at five in the morning? It was the coroners office, my best friend (roommate) was found dead in her vehicle, parked on the side of the road nearby, engine still running. That was it! My body slid to the floor uncontrollably. I was unable to weep yet unable to hold the tears. I was emotionally exhausted, defeated. I was cursed.

It was in a conversation with my daughter where today's quote would come back to me years after I released the words.

"I had to ask God why he would take Debra," Jennifer said. "With all the loss you have experienced in your life, I just couldn't get why again? Why you? Then all that came to me was that story you told me before I went off to college. Do you remember? The one about the feathers?"

I thought for a bit, then it hit me. For many years on every major holiday Jennifer and I would have an open house. We would open our doors to friends and strangers; ranging in class from homeless to attorneys. Generally we would prepare way too much food and on the Xmas open house we would even buy male/female gifts (from Santa, of course) to give to all.

Don't get me wrong. I am no saint. It was purely selfish reasons on my part. For years Jennifer and I were alone, totally alone. It was horrible to have no one. These open houses began during a time when I began to feel blessed in my life. I was making a good living. I had a very nice home. I was active in my community.  Then  it hit me. Surely I was not alone. Surely others were alone or felt alone like I had so often. It was time for me to give back... alas we began our open houses.

Making the list of things to get for my and Jennifer's last Christmas together before she went off to college Jennifer begged we spend it alone. She didn't want to share her last Christmas with a bunch of strangers.

"Out of the question, " I said. "It is tradition. We do this for them. Not for us."

"What's the point? Many of them are different people each year. Folks just come in and out of our lives. Many of these people we will never see again. They either end up dead or move away."

I lifted her chin, "Oh, honey, that's life. Many people fly in and out of our lives but what beautiful feather's they have shared and left behind."

Getting back to my conversation, I told Jennifer I remembered the story.

"Well, when I was asking God about all the losses in your life I thought... well it came to me--I mean these people were going to go whether you met them or not-- maybe you are just the best person He could find to share their feathers."

Tears filled my eyes as a comfort came over me like never before. "Yes. Yes, I suppose you have a point." I cried with amazement at the women she had grown into.

Today may we gather our feathers and share them with the world, finding gratitude we were the ones chosen to do so.

Have a grand day all.