Friday, August 8, 2014

Even though the walls are falling, I swear I hear the calling now

Today was particularly tough, for reasons I can't identify.

Nothing has changed, nothing has passed but time, but I've re-entered one of those phases where my grief is big and heavy and weighs my heart down. I remember my (now late) mother-in-law talking about the grief of losing her second husband, how it literally bowed her shoulders with its weight.

That's where I'm back to now.

Everything makes me sad: Couples talking about how long they've been together. Almost any song. The sound of Jay's voice on a recording. The breeze blowing. The beauty of clouds.

I got to the end of my work day and realized I hadn't yet meditated, so I got on my cushion and promptly lost my shit, sobbing hard.

This is one of those days when I honestly feel like I'm never going to pass through this, that I'm stuck in a tunnel that has no end.

Deep in my heart I know that's not true, because even here, I've seen the light at the end of this tunnel.

But at the moment, I'm back in the darkness, once again just putting one foot in front of the other.

3 comments:

  1. I developed intermittent non-cardiogenic chest pain for many months after I lost my mom. Then, chest pain recurred this winter from my heart breaking again when I lost my dad. The very physical symptoms of grief still caught me by surprise, and it is a weight, it is a drowning under a tidal wave.

    Serenity to you, dear Lisa.

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  2. That's all you can do is one day at a time, sometimes one minute at a time. I knew my husband for 25 years, was married to him for 21 of those. It's almost 8 years since he died. I'm still evolving. What I found out after the first few months of complete blackout (I didn't think I was blacked out then, but looking back, yeah, I was), was that if I didn't try to force myself to do things, such as donate his clothes to Goodwill, that next step would gestate within, out of sight, and suddenly I'd find myself packing them up for the local shelter. And it was the right time, and I was ready - but the next day, or the next, the conductor would be around to punch that ticket: sudden, deep grief for a day or two. I came to think of this as The Price I paid for taking each step forward. But then I could get up and proceed with life. Over and over again, this pattern held. The periods of crippling grief became less frequent, then less intense. It's a long slow process, and each person's is different. You're doing exactly what you need to be doing, each day, even when it hurts like hell, or confuses the heck out of you. You'll heal. You're doing okay, the pain will let up gradually. *hugs* sweetie.

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  3. The snow that falls in August could be the rain in the Gulf of our hearts. We will be borne up, found in the bullrushes by someone less than Pharaoh's daughter but someone who will take us in. Be lifted by our love.

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