Sunday, August 30, 2015
6 weeks after the death of my precious Mother, some thoughts. When someone you love dies, it's like a part of you dies as well, and you look at the person left and wonder who the hell you are. There's a rebuilding to be done. You are not the same and you never will be. I'm in that stage where I can go a whole day without thinking of Mum and then the loss hits and the pain is overwhelming, gut wrenching, and there's that split second where you know you can choose - to surrender, to open your heart, and let the pain overwhelm you, to wail, to thrash about in such sadness, yet powerless for there's no magic wand to bring her back. Other times, you choose to distract yourself; you know you will have to surrender to the pain soon but you need, yes 'need' to keep yourself together right now; you're weary; so you dive headlong into an activity. But of course, in the end, it's worse. The heaviness, the constricted throat, the moist eyes, stay then for hours, for days, until you can't hold it in anymore and you surrender. Yes there are others who'll always be there to comfort you - if you're capable of reaching out. Yes, there are a couple you know intuitively who are tired of your grief; your conversations, but doing their best nonetheless. But, in the main, humanity, gosh almighty it's amazed me. The natural world has always been easy for me to appreciate; people not so much. Yet, from the pain of loss, there is a this deep abiding connection to others and it's as if each person who's touched my life over the last couple of months, feels the loss with me, is truly there with me (there are exceptions for a couple of family members who are mentally ill and many families have these). Even people I don't know I feel differently towards now; we are all travellers on a path that's, yes, filled with much joy, but oh the sadness. Nobody is exempt. We are all in this together; walking each other home. I know that nothing ever stays the same; know it rationally; but the change is accelerated now. Sometimes I just want it to stop. But it won't.