i'm going deeper. asking hard questions of those around me. wanting answers that go beyond the now and into eternity. i'm no longer asking what it is all for, that question can only be answered in scraps and fragments of truth. i'm not asking why this is happening to me, that question only tears and shreds confidence. i'm not wondering what is next, because it no longer matters. Now is what matters. This instance. These words. These actions. This time; now.
now, when, i said goodbye, for a time, to my grandma. i am so thankful to have had 30 years of time with her. so thankful that I was able to spend these past 4 years, past few months, living and working in a city close to home so that i could visit her more frequently, and really get to know her. to be able to travel with her to family events over the years, and as my siblings got married and have children, to remain single and be able to spend that time with her, instead of with a spouse or child. to get the chance to stand with family and friends and commit her to the earth from which she was made. to cry, wholly and freely, unabashedly, in front of strangers, unashamed for the emotion i was showing- to be vulnerable enough to feel this grief at it's full.
there is so much to write about this recent happening, so many things i have learned in the past week, so many challenges met and conquered. how do you have a conversation with someone, knowing it will be the last? how do you see your family cry for the loss? what advice do you give when questions are asked about whether that last trip should be made? these things aren't easy. not easy at all.
in the light of these things, all selfish, fearful, and small things fall away; perspective is regained. courage is found in loss. purpose is found in knowing you will go the same path, one day. confidence is found in knowing there will always be others who will catch you in your grief.
and so in this light, the Light of all eternity, i move on; we move on, furiously beating our hearts and feverishly pumping our blood, colliding like the molecules that make us- living, now.
you ask some deep questions....but this i know: the answers are in this Light of which you speak....
ReplyDeletetrue, so true.
ReplyDeletei think the answers too are in our blood; in the rhythms our hearts, which sometimes change without warning; deeply embedded in the involuntary functions that we take for granted. and i'm thankful for these built-in gestures of moving forward; i could not stop my eyes from blinking, my lungs from expanding, or my tears from flowing. not for very long, at least. so the body brings us forward when everything else is too heavy to bear. it's hard, the fact that ultimately we can't ever really stop ourselves from trying, from facing things, from being broken. but it's something to cherish too, in the end, on the days when all these shadows fade a little, if even for a few moments.
ReplyDeletei am so sorry for your loss.
thank you.
ReplyDeleteyou are so right; so, so right. our body even carries us into death, in the end, when it's time. this forward momentum is all around us, even in us.
i hadn't extended my thoughts to the truth that even death is part of life's momentum, and the fact that even that can be comforting in its own way...
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