Motherless Grief and Wound Healing

Today would have been your 81st birthday. 37 years since you were on this side of the veil. In years past I often would feel a sadness or longing on this day.

But this year feels different. There has been much mental health and trauma work done this year. Uncovering some wounds that had scarred over, the scars had created a choking trap, I’ve finally found the courage to start undoing, breaking patterns, healing.

This year feels different. Longing and sadness are marred by hurt and frustration. I still miss you, I will always love you and I’m trying to find some compassion and grace for the choices you made. The choices that had consequences for so many.

A moment of quiet, a breath, remembrance, questioning and love. Happy Birthday Mom.

Rest well

Goodbye sweet spirit.

We knew each other such a long time. Much mutual admiration for such hard roads travelled. We never really knew each other deeply, I was too young and frightened to invest, I owed you more.

Your art was moving, and spoke of the depth that travelled though you despite all of the challenges that held you under.

You inspired me. I’m not sure if I ever told you. I wish I had. You told me how much you loved Lily and loved hearing/ seeing her growing. I am grateful for this for reasons more personal and complex and that just belong to us ❤️.

The hardest part of this journey for you is done , the broken body that held your determined fiery spirit is now at rest. The chains that held you back are released, you are whole and free.

Thank you my friend, for your compassion, interest and inclusion. Forgive me my failings here, you really do inspire me. The beauty you witnessed and created with pencil to paper will always be a reminder of the big space you filled.

Tonite I look at the setting sun. On my exhale are the prayers for your peace, release and safety in the Mother’s Arms.

I hope in Transition my friend you hear and feel what I mistakenly did not adequately say in life.

Blessed Be Dear Soul. I look forward to the time we break bread together again ❤️

Loss Not Yet Done

How do we grieve?

I have asked this question once before, when faced with grieving a friendship.

Grieving the living is hard, death has a finality to it, that makes the loss feel different.

How do we grieve those who are at the entrance to the bridge to Summer land? Death not yet here but looming.

How do we grieve the living, when they go on?

How do we grieve the losses in a world not yet ready to come together?

How do we grieve when it feels so lonely, by distance and by heart?

How do we grieve when it feels the losses continue to mount?

How do we grieve when nothing feels right?

How do we grieve when there is nothing left?

We grieve in the moment because sometimes that is all there is. Someday fond remembrances will come. Some day to recall the face will not sting. Some day the sound of the person’s name will not cut. Some day the good that was, will fill the hollow that was left at the end.

This will be how we grieve, howling, silent, still, shaking, until we get to the other side.

Holocaust Remembered but what have we learned?

Today is Holocaust Remembrance Day,

What have we learned from the loss of millions of lives?
People who just wanted to live their every day. Some who may have been destined to do amazing things for the world. Most who just wanted to grow up, grow old, love, learn, enjoy the sun on thier face, a meal with their loved ones, read a book, write a poem, dance.

What have we learned from the loss of millions of lives?
People who were persecuted for their faith, for who they associated with, for who they loved, for their perceived shortcomings.

I ask again, what have we fucking learned?

Here we sit, denying our Indigenous clean water, yet can fund pipelines and war rooms
Here we sit, fighting over who has the right to call this country their home, yet our own fair skinned ancestors crossed the sea from another place, they were not invited nor did they ask
Here we sit, people being murdered because of their skin colour and or orientation, yet we claim to feel oppressed because ( how dare they) we are asked to wear a mask to protect those around us.
Here we sit, oppressed people fighting for education, fighting to have a voice and their stories be told, yet some of us outright deny and dismiss their histories and stories.

I ask again, what have we fucking learned?

WWII Holocaust 6 million mothers, fathers, sons, daughters- wiped out
Countless genocides throughout time in Africa, India, Central Europe
Cultural Genocides in Canada, US, Australia
The list is long and soaked with blood of innocents killed for no reason other than fear of ‘different’

So we give it a day.

What have we learned? What will you do? How can we take history and learn from it.

Blessed Be the souls of those whose lives were taken for no other reason than someone decided they were unworthy.
I will speak up for those voices stolen by greed and ignorance. I will use the lessons here to remember life is sacred, that we are all blood and flesh, that we are all made of the stuff of stars. That we are all one.
❤️

Writers Block

I’ve been trying to write for weeks.

It is something that sustains me, it is something that heals me and when I don’t feel heard it as a way to make my voice amplified, to connect and not feel so stuck in my head.

There’s been points in my life where I stepped away from it, much to my detriment.

A few years back, with a renewed energy the stories began to pour out, I committed to working on the shadow side of myself, and from there a few narratives were born. There was some collaboration, tidal wave of inspiration and such trust that the stories and essays would flow.

While this particular bout of writer’s block feels like it came on just after the start of the pandemic, truly, when I look back, it has been a slow death since last fall.

First the fiction. There was the death of two cherished characters. They showed such promise and longevity, and were exhilarating to write.

But unfortunately that once promised epic story has became representative of what has become a bittersweet and painful period for me. In a tortuous narrative, (as devastating as I felt) they met their end. Silenced, stopped in mid journey. In the ether they now languish.

Though I did find the courage just before shut down to submit a short version to a few publications.

There has been a fair amount of interest in what may have come next and some suggestions for editing. The real possibilities to see it in print.

But now I am frozen. I can not bring myself to open the file, to polish it up and let it move forward. I did not anticipate how raw I still feel about all that was lost at that time, including the grief about the two leads. How much I miss them. How much they still have to say.

I’ve been able to hiccup some poems and the odd paragraph out, but even the ability to write essays has withered.

Those are my best connection to navigate the world around me and my mental health. But it has been near impossible to write anything I feel confident with.

I want to add hope, insight and support to the people that read my stuff. But all I can muster is despondent rage, and no adequate words to explain.

Life as we knew it has always had its hardships. But this global clusterfuck has added a layer of grimy soot that has not left anyone untouched.

I wait… wait for the words to come. I hope that there are characters choose to speak. I hope the characters ( myself) I laid waste to may someday forgive me. I wait for wisdom, knowledge and hope to share. I wait for the insight to be able to move through, over, under or around this block that feels insurmountable.

I wait….

Ghosts

I saw a few things I wanted to pass along to you. Things I thought would make you laugh or at least a moment of respite from life. I caught myself….almost too late. I remembered. You are not there. It would be lost to the ether. By choice or by design some endings will never be understood.

I miss you. I miss laughing with you. I miss our interesting and challenging conversations. I miss the meals we shared. I missed the fun we created.

This hit home this morning. I dreamt of you and others I have lost. We were at a table filled with oddities, pretties and food, we were celebrating with so many more friends and family, those I brought to you, and you to me, that have intertwined our lives. When I woke you were still untouchable, lost.

I popped online and the first thing I saw, I knew would make you laugh……. and it began again.

I wish you peace, you touched my life in ways I can’t explain. Some day the loss of you will sting a little less and the remembered laughter will feel a little warmer. Until then……

Goodbye my friend?

Make the decision to let something go. A song will no longer remind you of a breakup, seeing the person will no longer cause pain in your chest, hearing their name will no longer bring tears, happy memories may be once again looked on fondly. Make the decision and you can get there. But it is not easy. It is not linear. It is a spiral, it creeps back on you, out of the shadows. You feel the prickle on your neck, the heat move up your face and the tears threatening to spill. The sick drop in the deep of your gut, the hurt, anger and grief.

We often use this kind of imagery when talking about an ex lover, an acrimonious break up. The death of a dear loved one, deep grief of loss. Seldom about the break up of a friendship. But I am the first to attest that these deep wounds of loss that I am feeling are for the loss of a friendship that I loved, and for the collateral damage it has caused. It was a long time, long held friendship. One I thought would stand the test of time. With the demise of this once enjoyable, adventurous, always interesting relationship, so much else was irrevocably changed.

We had once worked together, our families celebrated so much together, birthdays, weddings, births, sometimes just a nice summer day was enough to bring us together. These gatherings started long before children, they morphed over the years to include children and growing families. We went from our twenties to our forties, with humour and style. Then it changed.

Can I pin point when? I think maybe now, I can kind of see when it first began to take a turn. But that has taken time for me to figure out. If you had asked me six months ago what happened and when….. I would have told a much different story. One where I am the complete victim of an unprovoked, subtle, destructive, gaslighting. One where I had no culpability to the drama. A drama that came out of no where. One where some very important relationships in my life had become collateral damage, or specific targets to destroy, meant to hurt me. A story where my trust and faith in so many people was broken, where I felt alone, unimportant, tainted by her alleged portrait of me.

At first I wanted it to just disappear, there had been so much other drama I had been dealing with, the addition of this had the potential to be crippling to me and very sacred things in my life. I decided to just ignore her, at least for the time that the drama blew up. But the ripple effects became wider and things had to come out in the open. I eventually wanted to hear her side, what was truth, misunderstood, what ever, just an explanation, a healing, a finish…something, anything. I thought maybe she would want that too. That our friendship had meant enough for her to want to sort out the mess. I reached out, I tried to ask, I was met with nothing. No one else could offer an explanation. Or wanted too.

I tried then to ‘let it go’. Tried to make peace with not knowing, make peace that few involved, seemed not all that bothered by what had happen and the destruction it had brought. I had asked that not much be disrupted on social media as our kids were friends and this did not involve them. Our connections are many and it makes life complicated. I was hopeful that a few may step up and ignore her in solidarity with me. But it did not happen. I was hoping time would soften and some type of resolution found. Nothing. I took a break from much social media, I could not handle seeing everyone else interact as though nothing had happened (even though I said it was ok, that no one owes me anything, that I can not control who talks to who, that it was a better way to handle things- but remember I do have anxiety and the gross trauma based need to please and keep things calm). My anxiety monsters feasted on the distrust, anger and sadness this brought. I did my best to contain the worst of how I felt when it bubbled up.

But my brain chewed on this, I need to try to understand, for myself at this point more than anything. In looking back, I think the slight cracks began to show at at a critical time for my friend, she was going through great loss and turmoil. ( Due to the anxious nature of my brain, I analyze things to the smallest parts, replay to try to figure things out. Sometimes it’s a handy skill, sometimes it is a paralyzing task.) I don’t think I was the friend she needed, maybe. I don’t think I was completely there for her due to the circumstances of my own life. I am sure I have some accountability. We had grown apart for some time, long before this, life was hectic. She needed support, I gave what I could, perhaps not mindful enough of what was needed. Perhaps I said something hurtful but was not mindful enough to notice and it set a poison seed. I had begun to make peace. Things were quiet, her presence seemed to diminish some.

I waited a few months. In a moment of hopefulness, and at an opportune time I tried to send her a birthday greeting, noting social media settings had been manipulated so I can see her but can not contact her. So I texted. It was met with a thank you, and that was all. No follow up, no anything. Except a bump in her presence again everywhere. Again the anxiety returned, bringing with it the ugly monsters of grief, distrust and deep sadness. Again I made the decision to ‘let it go’. I can’t change what happened. I will never understand except for the explanation(s) I have created in my own head.

The sick feeling I got when her name would pop up (thanks social media for having to show who is always doing what and where), was starting to soften. But I could feel the grief, it was hard but getting easier to move through. Until it hit again this weekend. Having to do with birthday party invites, family dinner expectations, and a semi rehash of assumed/alleged events, and the loss being felt by not only me, but my family. And her presence everywhere else increased. The sick, sad, confused feeling returned. Hopefully for a short while. But again, with the exception of this post, a break from direct social media until it ebbs and I can once again be the grown up who can handle the observation of whom is chatting, commenting or ‘liking’ and not feel hurt, sad.

I keep telling my family that sometimes we don’t ever get to understand fully what happen’s in some situations, that it can be ok to let go, disconnect from someone, wish no ill will, that life will move on and be ok. I keep telling them that truly we are not owed anything by anyone and time will move on. That at this point no answer will satisfy. That anger is pointless. And that the sadness will fade. I will keep saying it until I can fully believe it all the time, and the memories I have of all the times spent and shared can once again be seen with love and grace, not sadness and grief. That my anxiety trigger around this is temporary. That the distrust I feel with heal, and I will no longer wish that anyone will stand in solidarity (us vs them immature mentality) with me and cut her out. That I will no longer let the monsters periodically play on my self worth by feeling I didn’t matter enough to her, or to others who did not ‘choose’ to side with me.

I do believe the Universe will keep bringing us back to the same, to show us if we really have learned and/ or let go. I fundamentally understand why this is important, to teach us to really move on, to provide us healing. But I don’t have to like being brought back to this place again.

I resent that it still drives me from other connections (even if temporary), I resent the feelings that still come up, that I still have to work at it. I resent so much of this, I am grieving so many things because of this. I resent that I still want to understand why. I resent that she never tried. Today it is hard to find hope that I can move on. It is hard to hope that all of this sharp pain will dull permanently. It is hard to have hope that I will be ok with her presence and not feel the just a bit resentful and so sad. It is hard to manage the trigger this pulls for the anxiety monster that eats at me. It is hard to have hope that all the things affected by this will ever be completely righted. It is hard to not wish that she feels just as sad and hope that the loss of me matters. It is hard to quash that tiny little flame of hope that it can be saved, that it should be saved, that it was worth enough to both of us.

Tomorrow I will again choose to ‘let go’ and hope that there is a longer reprieve, that the next round is softer, shorter. Tomorrow I will again choose compassion, and hope that someone makes that choice for me. Tomorrow I will choose to wish her well.