On Samhain, an old friend called. He needed me to do what I'd promised a few months back - come to Mississippi and help him pack so he could get back West to be with his mom, who was diagnosed with Stage 4 colon cancer just two months ago. Second Husband came with me, and we stopped off at the Voodoo Spiritual Temple on the way back to Texas. The altar room seemed like a good place to shake off some of the death vibe, because when we got back, I'd be officiating at First Husband and now Co-Wife's handfasting.
The handfasting was a lot easier than what felt like psychopomping for my friend - preparing him and his things for a trip to the realm of the dead. At first I thought maybe I was overreacting, feeling like this, but apparently his mom's worse off than he thought. He doesn't think she'll see this Thanksgiving. And from what he's telling me, it would be a mercy. There's nothing short of divine intervention that could make this poor lady well.
I'm glad the handfasting came after my grim little errand; the sex is easier than the death, at least in this case, and it makes me feel like those energies are balanced (even if it also makes me think of the Eddie Izzard "Cake or Death" skit and me saying, "Sex AND Death, please" and him giving me that "WTF" look).
It's raining, which means I have to take time off to sit here, blog, and not try to do anything useful, which is good because I am a thoroughly wrung-out witch who'd go stand out in the downpour if she didn't hate cold water so much.