Sorrow's Companion

 Sorrow's Companion

Ian, 

Sorrow is a dance, they all say;

A back-and-forth

Swaying worse, then better, then worse again.

And in the end we must find our own way,

And in the end we find a measure of wisdom 

Gathering it up like acorns in the dark woods of sorrow. 

No one can help.

It is a solitary business.

But is grief my ally? Such an odd thought to imagine that my only steady partner through this year has been grief. Of course I have my family, friends...I have God....He is always with me, but as I have lamented so many times, God is not tangible. I must love and accept Him in abstraction. 

That's a part of the deal with God. 

You have to use your own imagination and faith

 And senses 

To detect

His elusive vapors....

sniff them and dig them out...

More truffles than acorns

 Is our Creator's elusive love.

But grief, now GRIEF is a solid companion I can feel with certitude. Evident, persistent, real. She is the wailing Mother, confused child, the terrified soldier looking down at the bloody place where his leg used to be...No imagination or faith is required, just life.

For me, grief arrived the day you left me, Ian. As I sat numb and transfixed at the thought of you gone, she slipped her shivering hand into mine and we began our walk. She is here with me every second of every day; never tries to lie to me or cheer me up, whether I am out in the world of the living or silent and still in bed.

She is truthful and she leans in.

I find that after a year of this shit show, her embrace is still the most authentic and honest moment of every day. I think she is my friend now. Without her terrible and tender presence I cannot seem to move. Henry Thoreau said, "To regret deeply is to live afresh." The deeper my sorrow and regret, the stronger I feel her arms tethered around me in agreement.

I do this funny thing at night sometimes.

On the cusp of sleep in the soft bed (on your mattress pad) I wrap my arms around myself very tightly. 

Too tight.

It's not even comfortable and it makes my shoulders ache. I give substance to my broken heart. It is how the feelings become flesh. Then I gradually relax of course, my strength wanes and I finally fall asleep....my body in agreement with my sorrow. She stays beside me even here, just on the edge of my sleep and waits like a small ember, ready for me to warm against in the morning. Then we start it all over again with the rising of the sun.

Then there is this surprising thing that happens sometimes. She gives me an unexpected blessing of sorts. She is a physical reminder that (for now) this sorrow is stronger than me and I cannot escape it, so I might as well relax against her and let go. Like skydiving, the jump is terrifying. The long fall is not a natural thing for humans, you know....

Because we are fixed on the fear of hitting the ground.

With my hand in hers, I forget the fear and can drift on the warm air a little while without gravity. It is nice. Then unexpectedly, relaxed and ready, she places both our hands on something pouring in from the Other side, from you my baby,  or from God. She draws my eyes or ears toward the miracle; a butterfly, a cloud formation, the wind chimes toning, or a blanket of fog. She makes me look and smell and hear it.....linger in it for a moment drinking it in. 

Together we know the Holiness of it.

Then we move on to the next wave of pain.

And I miss you

And I miss you

  And I miss you....

And She nods 

and knows.

                                                                                                 Love,

                                                                                                 Momma