How to celebrate the Red?

I don´t get the switch. She is suddenly unable to move. All the blood is drawn from her face. Lips paper-white. I see that she is leaving. For all she knows (she told me later) something out of nothing grabs her and throws her into the great black void which is eating up the world. Only a patch of garden where we sit remains for an instant of eternity but outside is no-thing. She feels like she is dying. She is leaving, already left the world forever. She is unable to see anything but the great black void. She is nobody, her body is history.

It´s a statue, an unmovable stone in which she is buried alive forever. I am sitting beside her and I am holding her hand and speaking to her. THERE IS NOTHING TO FEAR. The words are passing through her somehow but there remains nothing to deal with. She is wondering why I am wasting my time talking to a rock. She knows that all that is in vain because there is absolutely no way to communicate with me let alone to touch another human being.

Her grief is now unbearable. There is no you and me anymore. She is all alone in this nothingness. Why did IT do this to her? Cutting her off from everything that was. Her face is a frozen icon of hopelessness, it´s not belonging to a person anymore, not even human. It´s haunting to look at her and I´m desperately trying not to become hysterical, trying to talk her into the world for hours and generating a constant stream of encouraging phrases. She is a lost dying soul now, the more and more decomposing immaterial remains of a once warm and living person, who was suddenly destroyed, sucked up by an evil power. She is fading out, millions of years and millions of miles away from anything which bears meaning or companionship, - and she is rapidly loosing the last connection with what is left from her former life: A nearly empty mold of mineralised flesh sitting in this hollow garden forever.

BELIEVE ME (AND) YOU WILL COME BACK. Then sometimes a voice is coming out of this bottomless pit like a small girl´s; talking to nobody in particular: “I went away and I will never come back.” - “My hands are melted together and it´s impossible to seperate them.” - “Will somebody take me inside when the weather becomes cold?” I speak to this girl who was left behind in the dark and who does not know how to reach out, who knows nothing of the out-side but is keeping the very concept of it as her only left treasure.

The past of this agony is already a vast deserted continent for her, impossible to describe. DON´T FORGET TO TRY. Sometimes my words are corresponding to shortly surfacing ideas of her own. Suddenly she manages to lift a single finger. Now everything is changing. What was mineralised and melted together may separate and be animated again. Later she manages to grab a glass of water out of my hand. It´s a glass of water and I´m holding it and I´m putting it to my lips! the little girl is joyous.

“I can see you”, my friend is suddenly telling me. “I´m here but I´m still drawn.” STAY! “I am trying, God knows how I try.” “I feel like coming back.” One hour later she was able to smile. All her spirits came back one after another. I saw them checking in and praised thankee every one of them. How to celebrate the Red, finally coming home to her lips?