I am out with lanterns looking for myself. —-Emily Dickinson
I apologize for my absence from around the table, but I thank you for your patience. Please, have a seat and let me share a little bit about what has been going on with me this summer.
June 2023
For a long time I had been living comfortably in the bitter-sweet of my life; carrying the wounds of 2022 while enjoying my current life. I knew my grieving for my Mom and my brothers would never reach an end point, but I thought I had gotten to a place where I was able to live with my grief without it overwhelming me like in the early stages of it. In the middle of June, two things happened that alerted me to the fact that I was not fully aware of all the changes taking place in me as a result of the devastation of 2022.
One early morning while sitting on my front porch sipping my coffee in the quiet and stillness of my neighborhood, one of those soul care practices that was so good for me, I observed a rabbit hop into my front yard. It paused and so did I; it observing its surroundings before deciding which direction to go, and I observing the tranquil scene of a rabbit reflecting what I myself was doing. When it finally started in motion again, I assumed it was going to head in the direction of my neighbor’s yard, but that is not where it went. It stopped right beside my marigolds along my front walk, and I thought, at first, what a pretty sight. But then it proceeded to snap off one of the flowers. Instantly, I became enraged and jumped up from my chair to shoo it off. For awhile, I sat there in anger, but not understanding why I was so angry.
That same week my husband had to leave for a business trip. He was only going to be gone for two nights and three days, but it was going to be his longest trip away from home since before COVID. When it came time for him to leave for the airport, I broke down in tears. We were both shocked. He had been traveling for work for over twenty-five years; it was a normal way of life for us. Tears were not a normal part of our good-byes. Yet, here I was crying on his chest and not understanding why I was crying in this moment.
Understanding the Why
As I sat with these two experiences, I wanted to understand why my responses were so different from the way I would normally respond. At the same time, I noticed that I felt exhausted every day, even after sleeping for more than eight hours some nights. That physical change made me stop and remember the last time I had felt so exhausted and only wanted to sleep: immediately following the deaths of my loved ones. My body was letting me know that my outbursts were tied to my grief; the anger and the tears were not about a rabbit eating a marigold nor a three day business trip.
Currently, I now live with fear, and I am not used to it. When I kissed my husband good-bye for business trips over the years, I never was afraid he would not come back. The day my Mom died I kissed her good-bye believing I would see her again in a few days. She died three hours later. I lost a brother in 2013 and I thought that I would never experience the pain of losing another sibling, but then I did nine years later. I am now fearful of losing more people I love, because I know people can be gone from my life in an instant and there is nothing I can do to prevent it.
I have anger at the unfairness of my life. We had a beautiful, loving family. After the devastating loss of my older brother in 2013, we picked ourselves up and loved one another well and helped each other navigate the sorrow. We survived! But then we found ourselves rising up from the ashes again in February of 2022. We were doing it again, rising, but a little slower this time. The old wounds started to ache again. We still had bandages on our wounds when my Mom died seven months later. It has been a little over a year since the last blow, and there is healing taking place. But there are reminders of how easily my joy can be taken from me and I know what the consequences will be.
Lanterns
I cannot take away the events that put me on my grief journey, but I can choose to find a way to live with my grief so that it does not prevent me from loving my people well and enjoying all the blessings that fill each of my days. I spent the summer finding ways to alleviate my fear and anger and returning to practices that help me be the healthiest version of myself in mind, body, and spirit. In future posts, I will share more about the my practices and what I am learning about living with grief.
This summer reminded me that I will always have to be alert to how my grief manifests itself, because I will never be without it nor reach a place where I will be “fixed.” I am broken, and I accept that fact, but I will not let my brokenness prevent me from living my life to the fullest. I can live in the bitter-sweet; some days it takes a little more work to draw the sweetness out of the bitterness
What’s been nourishing me….
Mad Men date nights with my husband. I know we are behind the times with this series, but we are loving it. We watch it on our vintage black and white TV in our bedroom while sipping on a cocktail or two.
Russian Literature. I just finished Dr. Zhivago by Boris Pasternak. Now I feel like I need to watch one of the many films it inspired.
Long walks without any earbuds or other distractions. (That’s actually a lantern for me.)
What are you currently enjoying as we transition into Fall? What books or podcasts do you recommend?
I can't imagine trying to navigate life again after such unexpected losses. No one does it with more grace or faith than you. Even though you have anger and fear, you always triumph. This summer, we were on a short family trip and it rained, A LOT. I had time to read "Where the Crawdads Sing" from front to back---have you read?
This is amazing and beautifully written - thank you so much for sharing!!!