In my experience, family reunions follow a predictable pattern. Like walking a linear path, you encounter lots of different energy tones along the way - those tension-filled corners where old grievances simmer, the peaceful clearings where the Switzerland cousins gather in their practiced neutrality, and those bold spaces where alpha personalities hold court.

Yesterday, I was honored to be invited into a sacred space – a family gathering where loved ones came together to tend to the estate of their beloved father and uncle.

But what unfolded before me defied every law of family gathering physics I'd ever known.

This wasn't a reunion in the traditional sense. What I witnessed was far from that familiar linear path. Instead, it was something circular, nebulous, ethereal.

Each soul present - and oh, what souls they were - gorgeous, unique, compelling, fascinating, and loving in their own distinct way, merged into something greater than their individual light.

Like a school of silvery fish moving as one mind, they flowed with an almost supernatural synchronicity.

At times, I found myself stepping outside, honoring the sanctity of their private moments, watching their fluid interactions from a respectful distance.

At other times, they drew me in with such natural grace that I found myself becoming part of their school, doing what I could to contribute to their flow without disrupting their innate harmony.

The beauty of it caught in my throat.

There was no beginning or end to their dance of care and connection. Each person moved with intuitive grace, anticipating needs before they arose, offering strength here, tenderness there, all with few words needed. The magnificence was palpable – love made visible in its most resplendent form.

I couldn't write about this yesterday - the first time I've missed a daily blog post - but it was such a gift and for such good reason as waiting until today allowed these moments to settle deep into my bones.

Honest to goodness, there is almost nothing better than being a witness. Just as you can't see the mountain when you're standing on it, there are some forms of beauty that can only be fully beheld from a slight distance.

To be invited to witness such raw beauty is to hold your breath, knowing you're in the presence of something rare and precious. My heart swelled with the honor of it all, watching this family transform grief into a tapestry of the most exquisite love.

In these sacred spaces, we're reminded that sometimes love doesn't follow straight lines. Like wildflowers in a meadow, each unique bloom finding its perfect place among the others, clustering together in nature's own design, creating something far more beautiful than any gardener could have planned.

And sometimes, if we're very lucky, we get to witness their collective sway in the winds of grief. I was that kind of lucky yesterday, and for that, I am so grateful.