No matter how old I get. No matter how mature I become. No
matter the years that have come between that dreadful day and the present
moment, I am still transported back to the night when my world was turned
upside down on the anniversary of my mother’s death. That feeling I cannot shake. The feeling that
sneaks up on me and slaps me in the face. That feeling that even has a smell. A
noxious smell that takes over my nostrils. Stinging my eyes. Forcing out tears.
Tears that come not often anymore but come when I least expect.
I woke up yesterday morning feeling that feeling. That
feeling I could not pinpoint at first. But it asked me to go back to sleep. To
close my eyes and shut out the day. That feeling that asked me to cover myself
and protect myself from the awakening to the realization of what the date of
the day meant.
I got out of bed and looked out the window. Looked at life
still going on even in its silence. Even in its stillness I could feel the
guilt I felt when the grief started to lessen and my laughter returned. I could
feel the shame I felt that though I was broken by my mother’s death, I was starting
to live again. I could feel all the confusion I felt as a 13 year old girl that
life was moving on without the most important person in my life. The thought
that I was betraying her by living again.
I busied myself then. Doing anything to take my mind of what
the day meant for me. Finding something to do.
Anything so I would not feel the remorse rising in my chest. Fighting it
away before it sealed my throat so I could not breathe. I chose to write about my
mother yesterday. To write about my grief and acceptance. But grief is a powerful
and gripping thing. It comes and goes when we least expect it. Taking us down
into the darkness even when we believe we have found the light. Tricking us into thinking we have found the light.
I posted my blog thinking I had dealt with what I was
feeling only to wake up this morning feeling a pain in my chest, tears stinging
my eyes and I knew grief had come back. Come back to claim me. To send me on
that roller coaster ride only grief can do. So I decided to write about what I
am feeling once again. To allow myself to grieve. To allow myself to go through
the pain that remains deep down. The pain that never goes away. Fades. But
never goes away.
The pain that is why I know compassion more than I ever
would have had I not lost someone so dear to me. So special to me because pain
opens us up to compassion in ways not possible without knowing what it is like
to face the abyss and think there is no point of return. But then a day comes
when the abyss becomes not darkness but light. Suddenly turning into a magical,
inviting, beautiful lake. A lake of
clear water with a bottom. A lake that is filled with my tears. Tears of joy
and sadness. Letting me know that no matter what; life is what I make it. What I
feel. What I believe.
That it is up to me to either fall into the darkness of the abyss
or keep going until it shimmers with light and evolves into this beautiful lake
made from my tears. To take every experience
that comes my way as a lesson. The tears are giving way now. Giving way to
understanding once again. Releasing the grief that was paralyzing my heart. And
opening me up to live again. To be again. To welcome compassion in my life. To
embrace compassion. To be compassion. Because that's what pain is teaching us. Giving us. The gift of compassion.
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