Friday, April 5, 2013

Corners of Our Insides

Photo by G. Dorrington

I have been wondering what, and even if,  I would be inspired to write something this year for the "anniversary" of my mom's death.  Every year I have honored her somehow by  sharing memories and photos of her, talking about my experiences with her death and how it has changed me.  I have done some of that recently, but I haven't really touched on what's going on deep inside.  Despite my practice in presence, this day has been creeping up on me, sitting in the back of my mind for over a month now.  

Right now I'm sitting here with a glass of red wine, made from the very grapes that my mom planted.  She would have liked knowing that, I used to hate red wine.  I have lit a candle for her because wherever she is, I know she is surrounded with light, and in this light, we are connected.   I also grieve.  I grieve for my sweet and beautiful mother.  

My mother's death taught me so much about myself, most of the time I choose to speak of how strong I became after her passing.  I learned that in grief, there is also a birth.  That when the clouds lift, there can be a celebration of something new and profound.  After mom died, I found some inner strength and inner wisdom that was finally awakened.  It was most welcome and something I needed and, I believe, couldn't have happened with out experiencing her loss.

I haven't, however, spoken of the fear that settled in.  Yes, fear, that which "cuts deeper than any sword".  The suddenness of her death, the shock of it all made me realize how fast death can be upon us.  How things can be altered in an instant.  My life can change in a matter of seconds.  I know there is such beauty in this; I try to bathe in every minute of this glorious life, be it difficult, easy, fun or saddening.  The fear creeps up, though, especially during the harder times.  It's a deep fear of loss, of losing another that I love.  It hurts to even think of it.

I try my best to sit with it, to hold, love and heal the hurt girl within me, the one who is afraid.  The one who still misses her mother and is afraid of losing another family member, particularly a child.  At times, it tears at my heart strings like a saw ripping into me.  I can do nothing, but feel, for if I choose to ignore it, I become numb.

 I believe in looking deep within my friends.  It is the only way I can live.  Perhaps, one day, like the candle I have lit this very night, I will bring light and warmth to all those fears that hide themselves in the dark corners of my insides.  Perhaps one day, either in life or in death, I will become free of them.  As my favorite poet says, dear sweet Rumi, "The hurt you embrace becomes joy.  Call it to your arms where it can change."  

Love and Light

. . . and thanks mom, . . . for everything.

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