PROMPTuesday #85: What Moves You

I’m having a hard time feeling the holidays this season. It’s bothering me, all this groping for meaning and coming up empty. So…would you share something that’s moved you recently? Or a spiritually uplifting moment you’ve experienced? Where were you? What happened?


I would love to know. I think it could spark something in me.


I don’t know if I’ve shared this before, maybe, but the following deeply affected me, so I apologize for redundancy.


When my beloved Rebecca passed away at 4AM on November 10, 2008, I turned upside down. Not only was she a friend, mentor, spiritual support, and artistic inspiration, but she died at the exact time and on the exact day as my mother 11 years earlier. And even though I’m now a mother myself, I somehow felt childish, and motherless, in an immense wave of aloneness. It was a gutting. I draped myself over Rebecca’s hospital bed for several minutes after the hospital staff called her time of death because the heart monitor would beep every three minutes or so, and to me, that meant she wasn’t dead yet. The nurses wanted to unplug that dang monitor, but I just couldn’t have it, because any electrical activity meant a part of Rebecca was in this world still.


After, I remember walking through that gross hospital light and into a corridor playing canned Christmas music. I walked selfish, because I felt sorry for myself, dredging up how it was to have my mom die right before the holidays, and the regret for not being a good enough daughter, or a good enough friend to Rebecca. And now they’re both gone. And who is going to love me now, just because they have to? Like mothers do.


I got into my car, and suddenly it was as if a thousand tiny bubbles engulfed me. I told The Rock later that it felt like being in ethereal 7-Up. There was a lightness in the air, that’s all I can say. But also movement. As if someone high-fived my soul, which I know sounds completely ridiculous, but exactly right. It was a caress, and a smoothing of my brow, and an “it’s all OK.”


Like mothers do.


And I knew I was loved, just because.


Do you have a moment? Or a song, or book, or person that uplifted you? Please share.


Please post your submission in the comments OR post in your blog and leave a link to your blog in the comments.


First time to PROMPTuesday? Read a bit about it here.
Want to see what’s been written in the past? Catch up on the PROMPTuesdays archive here.


5 Responses to “PROMPTuesday #85: What Moves You”

  1. Mama Mary says:

    oh man, I’m too verklempt to type or talk or think about what I can possibly write for this. But it is too special to pass up. Gotta go get Kleenex and then I’ll try to compose myself enough to join in this uplifting prompt. xxx

  2. Mama Mary says:

    Okay, mine is up. Thanks for the cry last night as I was typing this. Your story sparked a memory with me and this is it.
    Oh how the Holidays are that biting mix of bitter & sweet.

  3. my boyfriend of 6 years was killed by a drunk driver, exactly 14 years ago, tomorrow. I was only 22 when it happened. since then, believing in anything has been difficult, especially around the holidays. as i was thinking about whether or not to post anything, a bee decided to pay me a visit on the window right in front of me. a bee has been visiting me on a regular basis since my boyfriend passed. I call him my ‘Bee Friend’. he always calms me and reminds me of my connection to something bigger out there.

  4. […] back and write about more things that uplift me, happy things that don’t involve death and ectoplasmic soda pop. As such, I’m going to list some of my uplifters here. A few I’ve referenced before, so […]

  5. Da Goddess says:

    I love that you’ve remembered Rebecca so warmly and that you felt her love surround you. I remember you calling to tell me…how I felt so helpless and unable to comfort you on your loss.

    what moves me? Perhaps it’s the knowledge that I was given a soft place to land five weeks ago. A home that was safe, warm, and welcoming, even though it was away from my children and the rest of my comfy misery. A chance to reinvent myself, to find life amongst the ashes.

    My friends have always come through in big ways. Friends move me.


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