The Sea Won
Warning, this post is not uplifting or hopeful but it is the truth.
Yesterday was dark and hard for me, and I did the work anyway. I breathed circle breaths slowly. I found stamina or respite in child’s pose. I took bites of nourishing food and drank water.
I am still here this morning, waking to this new reality again. There are many sides to grieving. If I am living by my code, I must be willing to share honestly even if it is hard for others to hear or pushes up against belief systems that keep us safe from feeling the depths of loss. There are no words necessary to try to mediate this rawness. Just let me feel them. Bear witness to the harshness. Sit with me.
This Earth Experience is flawed. We should not be separated from those we love. If love is all there is, then taking the inspiration and sources of that love away is cruel.
It is one week ago he brought me coffee in bed. One week ago we were sitting together, sipping our coffee together stretching time before we began the day. One week ago he was preparing lunches for our children to take to school. He was making them an excellent breakfast because breakfast is a serious and important thing. One week ago he went on a run with Bayou, one of our dogs, and then he walked the other two. One week ago he came home a little after eleven o’clock in the morning to get his computer he left behind. It was a surprise moment between us before I began seeing clients for the day. We had a short but sweet visit and our last kiss. We said I love you for the last time on this plane.
I know I am only feeling the waves of the shallow waters that are the edge of the sea of grief. They are pummeling me. The enormity of the vastness before me and the depths below are daunting and menacing. I will be with those dark waters too, even though I cannot imagine more, and I know there is.
Presence is the way through. I know this, I teach it and I do it for myself. I will sit in and focus my senses on what is here and now, even if that is the pain. What is keeping me from being pulled under into the depths below? Perhaps I have not built my stamina or my endurance yet. I do not want to train for this. I know those deep dark waters wait, and yet where I am now is more than I could have imagined. I will swim this ocean, and I will not pretend it is alright or that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. There is not.
Perhaps because a body can only cry so many tears in a day, and the anxiety can only own so much of any person’s center, at about 9pm, I was finally overcome with a calmness or numbing or sheer exhaustion. Maybe the sea had won. Ellie opened a gift bag left by a friend yesterday. Inside there was camomile tea, a mug, and a smooth rose quartz the size of my palm. We made the tea. I held the stone to my heart while I fell asleep watching a movie with William and Ellie.