The 11th of March, 2014...court date to finalize Rob's estate. A five minute proceeding that is cemented in my heart.

The regular judge absent this Tuesday morning, instead, a female magistrate, hovering my age, presides over my probate hearing.

Even as she enters I am keenly aware that she is a divine substitution. She speaks with such kindness and concern for each person who approaches her bench. 

My turn...surreal and so final. We never take our eyes off each other as  I take my oath and answer each tedious question. She reaches across her stack of papers and tells me how very sorry she is for my loss. Then, she says something that nearly tears me apart. "So young!" she spills through teary eyes and shaking head. I whisper back, "I know."  Perhaps she is looking at a mirror image of her own life or through empathy or even fear of the possibility of standing on the other side of her raised desk. I'll never know, but her observation rips open another festering wound. Why, God, why so young? We survived the growing pains of marriage, the turbulent years of parenting and saw the land of milk and honey just ahead.

 I don't even know this woman so earnestly looking into my soul, but she dares to ask the question I have been afraid to cry. Camaraderie and courage found in the most unexpected place. I'm tempted to  run through the mantra: well, life is not fair, only God knows, what if I received what I truly deserved, but today I choose honesty and ponder the same confusion. 

I'm not really looking for answers, just another arduous step in healing.