Today the grief was like a magician's black bag. I reached in and I don’t know what I will pull out, anger, tears, or a smile at a memory.
Two minutes later, it's like the rabbit hole of Alice In Wonderland, only darker, gloomier with no wonder of where it will end. I go deeper and deeper and deeper and deeper. I am sure I will never get out.
And then I hit bottom, exhausted behind the eyes, head pounding for the crying, my body lethargic, I am relieved that I was wrong.
They are right. It doesn’t last forever.
I forget that when I am falling.
Why is it so damn hard to remember?
How do you react when someone else is in emotional pain?
Do you want to run away? Fetch water or a tissue? Do you want to do something, anything…take action?
Or are you able to watch the pain. Are you aware that there is nothing to DO but stand in the presence of it? Silence being the only thing that is needed.
I sat on the wall at my kid’s school last night (waiting to pick up Ezra and Pallas from an all school camping trip) and cried with a friend.
She sat next me, talking at first and then sensing I needed silence, asked if I wanted her to talk more. I shook my head.
She watched me with my head on my knees hurting. She heard the sobs. She saw the raw anguish, the holy-fuck-he’s-not-here-anymore realization I felt. She ached for me. And she sat with me and said nothing.
I am not courageous. She is.
To watch and quell every bone in your body that screams MAKE IT BETTER!; to bear witness to someone else’s deep agony; to let them suffer and recognize that the only thing needed in that moment is your presence…not your words, water or a damn tissue. Just you.
That is courage.
Thank you Marda
When you bring food, remember to deliver it in containers that DO NOT need to be returned. Their lives are hectic enough without worrying about getting pots or containers back!