It can be dizzying this rebuilding. I am shine bright proud of myself for simply showing up and advancing without too much complaint. I have been open to meeting new people – willing it, even, calling out to the skies while walking the streets of Avignon, “bring me someone today,” optimism filled – and that too takes so much courage. Blowing patiently on the embers. I know it. I have kissed and my lips feel his sweet bruise, still.
And yet I woke up this morning and…I am crying without knowing why. More tears without noise. It started with missing Ben, his arriving just in my half-sleep upon waking and then just waves of longing for my old structure. The stone front steps where I always sat, the books stacked and frequently paged, the comforting illusion of a “forever,” being held in the morning after not sleeping well or sleeping deeply, just as the first hello. I thought that I had moved firmly beyond that longing. I truly did.
Grief is so tricky, leaving me shrugging foolish at my youthful misunderstanding. But I know to be patient, to be kind, to go gently. And I remember well how fortunate I am, it isn’t that.
It is just waltzing, myself in my arms. That old life. This new one. Turning, turning, turning.
In the dirty laundry buildup, my camera is gathering dust and that scares me. Admittedly, exhaustion clouds my eyes. Perhaps these mysterious tears have come for rain? There is something of getting ready for what is next, always – trying to create a luxury of space – that is both joyful and truly tiresome.
Can I find the words? Am I just words? Or am I also air and blood and dust of the moon?
This humaness. I take it all and willingly but there are also moments where I just feel a deep need to curl up on time’s carpet to rest.
Breathing through, I will get dressed and head outside to seek solace in beauty’s kind balm.
Sorry for my long silence in responding. Just read this today, 10/28. On the day you wrote it I was in first day of moving to an independent living apartment with the help of my sister from CA who is a wonderful mother and grandmother …but not mine! Thank goodness she stayed for a second week and we moved to breathing and then happiness. Thought of this when saw first post from your sister. I wish you your own peace in any form, at your pace and style. Please take care of your body, heart and soul, however you define them.
I love how you can express your feelings…especially when they are something most of us would hide. We all fight battles that seem overwhelming at times….I do applaude you getting up, getting dressed and getting out there. I by the way am doing good…and just know you will one day.
Yes. I am aware that pain is relative. But I honor it when I feel it. Just as I honor the joy.
Oh, this is so incredibly beautiful Helen! I just read the passage aloud to call it into being. Thank you with all of my heart. I will keep this close.
I do. They may be little but they are big. 🙂
Your belief and encouragement that it is so moves me deeply Edgar. Thank you.
As do you, my new friend. As do you. Everything you wrote here strikes a very deep cord with me. I could not agree with you more. This learning can be so raw but so gentle too. Especially when I do not resist or am not afraid of what life might show me inside…that forms my experience of the outside (and I want to put quotes around those words because I am not convinced the separation exists). I will carefully hold onto your word, curiosity. For both of us.
xo h
You are fabulous, Bernadette. I love this.
Michelle, I am sorry to hear that you have been in a similar place. We both have been through a lot of change. But I know how much you appreciate all the good too. Taking the hug and the kiss! Sending love back too.
This brought tears to my eyes. You do indeed know missing my beautiful friend. Much love to you.