Courageous Choice

The concept of courage has presented itself numerous times over these past few days - shown to me in a meditation, discussed while walking with a friend, and presented as a online forum topic.  For those who make the conscious choice to continue embracing life, despite having challenging experiences thrown in our path, courage is what we draw on in order to keep angling our souls towards the light, rather than retreating into darkness.  In the face of ongoing pain or grief, making the daily choice to find joy and gratitude is an act of courage, requiring an enormous output of energy.  The return on that investment is the gift of a life worth living.

You're Lucky You Don't Have a Son

I love family celebrations and fortunately there have been many, of late. Three birthday parties (including a milestone one for my 90-year-old father-in-law), as well as meals shared over Easter weekend. And coming up, a get-together for Mother's Day. After any family event, I always experience the inevitable emotional letdown of missing my son more acutely, but thankfully, the intensity of this feeling usually dissipates by morning.

Today, however, there are still lingering effects from a celebration that took place over a week ago, due to a comment an extended family member directed at my husband that evening. The words continue to reverberate in my mind, triggering this ache in my heart: "You're lucky you don't have a son." This, from someone who had known Michael. Obviously, it was an off-the-cuff comment; this person certainly did not intend to cause any pain. Still, it is difficult to understand how he could forget that we had had a son. Maybe it occurred to him later, maybe not. Upon reflection, there is the off chance that he hadn't forgotten, but neglected to consider the consequences his words might have. The impact this comment had on my husband and me was twofold: one, the shock upon hearing the words themselves, then the resulting pain, and two, recognizing the stark contrast between these two realities. My husband and I live with this profound loss every single day and yet, for this person, it appears that our son has slipped completely off the radar. And so, it goes. The learning continues.

Expanding Perceptions

It had been months since I last took part in an ISA evening, and was therefore keen to go earlier this week.  The thirteen of us in attendance placed our chairs in a circle, and participated in a group meditation. Familiar images and concepts appeared in my mind's eye, including: the infinity symbol; vibrant pink and gold energy; the inescapable link between love and pain.  An entirely new experience also awaited me, related to all of the above.   I noticed an androgynous energy-being, appearing as an opaque white light with elongated head and limbs, standing behind me. After resting its hands on my shoulders for a while, it moved around to face me.  Soon, I became aware that my gold locket, containing photos of Michael and Kelly, was gently swinging back and forth.  At first, I felt confused, but that confusion quickly turned to astonishment when I realized that the light-being was physically moving my piece of jewellery!  I acknowledged this act with gratitude, thanking the being for enabling me to have  another magnificent spiritual experience.  By staying open to possibilities, my perceptions of existence continue to expand.

Detach With Love

Detaching with love.  A difficult lesson frequently presented to me in this lifetime.  With close family members.  The arena in which so much opportunity for learning occurs.  First hearing it described this way at an Al-Anon meeting.  Concerning being in relationships with people who are dealing with addiction.  Working on separating an addict's behaviour from the essence of their soul.  Enabling me to love an individual while simultaneously choosing not to tolerate the objectionable, and often hurtful, conduct.  Vividly recalling an incident from long ago.  Receiving guidance with this after an hour of still time. While meditating on an important relationship.  Hearing the phrase, "Compassion yes, responsibility no."   Often falling short when trying to put into daily practise, but definitely worth striving for.  Providing a healthy alternative to engaging in anger, drama and pain.

Providing Comfort

In conversation with one of Kelly's dear friends.  Discussing the reluctance of co-workers to mention Kelly's name.   Not speaking of their colleague who has passed.  Perhaps afraid of upsetting this friend. Fearing they may cause additional heartache.  If only they could be reassured that the tears and sadness come regardless.  That is our reality when we have lost someone we loved. The irony is that they would actually provide comfort by sharing a memory or remarking how much they miss her smile and cheerful disposition.  Hearing others speak of our loved one actually helps ease the pain.  Knowing they mattered to others.  That they are missed.  That they will not be forgotten.

La Pietà

La Pietà.  Opportunities abound for feasting ones eyes upon this powerful image.  Statues and paintings of it exhibited the world over in churches, galleries and museums.  No religious beliefs required in order to be stirred by this scene.  At the core, a mother cradling her deceased adult son.  Of late, reflecting on that.  Recalling the memory of standing in St. Peter's.  Deeply moved by Michelangelo's exquisite marble piece.  Feeling the sorrow and heartbreak emanating from that statue.  Now focusing on another aspect.  One not as obvious to me before.  That of profound love.  Calling to mind the impossibility of such pain existing without the love that came before.  I am not Mary, nor was he Jesus.  There was no crucifixion.  Relating however to the essence of that experience.  That of a mother outliving her child.  Embracing the depth of that love.  Something shared by millions over the ages. 

Seeing the Similarities

I ran into a business acquaintance yesterday and she shared her condolences.  She then exclaimed, "I know exactly how you feel!"  My first thought was, "No you do not".  Middle aged, never been married and no children.  She knew exactly how I felt?   She proceeded to tell me that after her mum died, she had cried every day for eight months.  My mind quickly proceeded to judgement - grieving an eighty year old mother versus a twenty five year old son.  After a few minutes of small talk we said our goodbyes.  As I left, I reflected on her comment and my reaction to it.  I then remembered something that I had momentarily forgotten .  Grief is an emotional reaction to the loss of any relationship that had great meaning in ones life.  She obviously experienced very deep pain with that loss and imagined the same for me.  My desire to measure and compare our situations focused on our differences and created separation in my mind.  Seeing the similarities brought me back to a place of connection.  Much better.

A Day Without Tears

No tears at all yesterday.  Observing that there have been a few of these monumental days now.  As the hours drift by, the pain still resides underneath most breaths that I take.  However, it has begun to feel less raw.  The sun and warmer temperatures certainly don't hurt.