Grieving

[qos]

Time got away from me last night, and I didn't actually turn the light off until almost 11pm. When I did finally start to settle down I was quickly overwhelmed with grief. It was the second time in three or four days that I've broken down into wracking tears at bedtime, overwhelmed by grief and loneliness and a screaming protest of It's not fair!

There was nothing I could do to comfort myself. Everything I tried only made me feel worse. I felt utterly alone and hopeless.

Finally my daughter appeared in my doorway. "Mom, are you okay?"

I couldn't even answer, I could only cry.

She came into the room and lay down next to me on the bed, saying quietly and sweetly, "It's okay, Mom. . ."

It wasn't okay. That was the problem. I wasn't okay. But having her there helped. I've always felt free to cry in front of her, so she isn't afraid of my tears. Every so often she would repeat, "It's okay, Mom." After a while I asked her if she would sit up, and I held her tightly. "It's so unfair," I finally managed to choke out. "I miss him so much. I want to make him come back by sheer force of wanting."

"I understand. I felt that way about [her pets who have died]."

I was so upset in grief that I almost laughed bitterly at the comparison between my beloved and her pets, but managed to retain enough sanity and control to honor her words instead.

"You need to rest," she finally told me, with all the wisdom of her eleven years. "That will help."

When I had acknowledged that she was right and had calmed down, she started back to her room. I said, "I'm sorry I disturbed you with my crying."

"I didn't hear anything," she replied.

"Then why did you come in?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I just felt something was wrong."

I cried for a little while longer after she left, and eventually settled down with the help of some spiritual allies -- but my grief is still close to the surface today.


It's not fair.
And there's not a damn thing anyone can do about it.
And I hurt so very much.

As I was trying to comfort myself before my daughter came in, I had the sense that my primary ally from among my teacher's companions, who I will call Scotty, was trying to comfort me. I appreciated what he was trying to do, but I was so upset that his attempts only highlighted for me how difficult it still is to achieve close contact with LM and made me feel worse.

At some point, probably after my daughter left, I was again sinking into depression and feelings of utter hopelessness. Again I thought about how welcome death would be -- and that's when I had the sense of LM grabbing me by the scruff of the neck and telling me in no uncertain terms that that was unacceptable: for my own karma and for what it would do to my child. I agreed, but my heart wasn't in it, and again I cried out "It's not fair! It's not fair that we had so little time together!"

"NO, it's not!" he shouted back at me in the silence -- "but do you think you're the only woman who's lost a husband too soon? The only person who's lost a loved one unfairly?" And my mind filled with images of war and starvation. I'm walking a path shared by millions of others, and he is not going to allow me to wallow in my grief or become self-pitying. I'm allowed to grieve, but I need to put my grief in the service of my path, and use it as a bridge to the griefs of others.

It's not "why he died." His death has nothing to do with my path. But since he did die, it's my responsibility to find whatever gifts I can in the midst of the pain.

And it's very clear that he shares my grief. Any anger I felt coming from him last night was born not just of his desire to snap out of my extreme state, but also out of his own grief at our separation and his inability to hold me and be with me the way we both want to.

But his intensity did snap me out of the depression, and I settled down again, searching for a sense of his presence, which had once again become remote. Sometimes I've been able to energetically sense his 'physical' presence, but not last night. Again I felt Scotty near me, reminding me that just because I can't feel him doesn't mean he's not there, reminding me to have faith.

And I listened to him, and I used my imagination to feel him lying with me, holding me in his arms, trusting in things unseen, and fell asleep soon after.

Comments

[makhsihed.livejournal.com]

:-/

*hugs and gives tea*

[oakmouse]

Oh, honey. I know how much it hurts, and how difficult it is to hang on through the pain. I've asked Isis to be with you in this. Try to remember to call her when you need help. She doesn't take the pain away, but she can make it easier to bear.

I know LM was with you last night, because when I was lying awake talking to J near midnight, J commented that he was with you. When you can't feel him directly, use your imagination as you did. It's better than nothing, and it may help you to establish real contact.

More in an email.

You know I'm here when you need me, and so are all of my allies, contacts, and gods. If it's a situation where you can't physically call, then put out a call on the inner. it will be answered, one way or another, by somebody.

*hugs and love*

[oakmouse]

BTW, you have a damned amazing daughter, and you're definitely above and beyond as a mom.

[ancareth-raven.livejournal.com]

Your daughter is very intuitive. I think she's one of the 'new kids'.