I woke up this morning to the news that a fairly new, but somehow dear, friend had lost her mom. Now, I know this feeling…I’m at the age when it’s not too strange for parents to die, but it’s still a massive shock to the system.
Losing children has given me a new view on the world of grieving people and populations. It’s softened me to the freaks that keep the ashes of their loved ones and to the ones who let death lock another dead bolt in the door of their heart. I identify with a myriad of the bereaved. And my grief is still so big and consuming. And I’m still feeling my way through all of this. And then the curve ball is thrown. It’s coming right at my head and I can't move. This horrible grief, this bottom-of-the-pit that I carry with me everywhere I go is destined to continue. I’m going to be here again. Again and again I’ll walk this meadow of scrub that grows over the ashy ruins of what was there – my two boys, my parents, my best friends, my husband. Oh my god, I’ll be here again and it makes my heart so desperately heavy and yet so very, very full with the knowledge that I have to let it’s love overflow for those that I still do have.
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1 comment:
I couldn't agree more. One of my friends who has gone through tremendous loss told me that it taught her to understand others on a level that she never could before and also to be a friend to others suffering in a way that she was never capable of doing before.
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