“Grief is different. Grief has no distance. Grief comes in waves, paroxysms, sudden apprehensions that weaken the knees and blind the eyes and obliterate the dailiness of life. – Joan Didion
Lately, I have been knocked on my ass by rogue waves. They come out of no where as the term “rogue” would have it, and I am left holding on to whatever I can in order to find balance. It’s always a temporary balance though. The kind you get when you grab for a railing on a boat so you don’t fall in. Remove it and your under.
So, here I am shattered. The waves of grief are coming more frequently and in rapid succession. I am finding it difficult to hold my breath. I have my shovel in hand and I am going deep. Here on this page with these words I can tunnel safely to soul. The pen penetrates my soul while the ink draws blood that oozes down the page.
Grief it truly has no distance. It shows up like an uninvited guest on a bad night. It is the single strongest trigger of my tears, and when the wave hits it is paralyzing. When we grieve the loss of someone we often get half way and then stick a bandage on our heart and move on. Life beckons to us and tells us that we have to get back to the art of living. I agree with this…however, the bandage comes up sometimes when we least expect it. Until we are fully through with the grieving then we are going to be hit with the waves.
I have lost many friends over the years. Their are times when the people we have lost are still living and we must let go of them for whatever the reason. As hard as it might be there is no finality in that truly, for they are still walking and breathing and the chance to make amend is always there; and if we chose not to then it is for good reason and there is peace there.
I have lost many friends to death. Too many for someone my age. There have been car crashes, shootings, overdoses, disease, hit and runs, suicide, and broken hearts; you name it. I learned at an early age that life is incredibly fragile and precious. I have grieved these friends and made my peace with their passing. I know that they are okay and that they are infinite…far beyond us, above us, below us, and all around us. This is my truth.
There is one that cripples me though and as I try to type this my hands shake. The love of my life passed less than two years ago. It was quick like lightning and un-expected. He was not perfect, in fact at first meeting I knew he was just a friend…a best friend for eternity. I had met my match in a person; he wasn’t perfect, but he was so fucking real. It didn’t take long before I fell in love with him, and I knew this because the earth shook beneath me. Can a person have more than one soul mate in a lifetime?
“Is love a wound that deepens as it dreams?” – Erica Jong
He is gone now. I thought I was okay, but lately these waves of grief keep knocking me down. I feel him, hear him, and sometimes I even catch a glimpse of him. It’s not only me…my son does too. When he comes and tells me, I smile and just remind him how much he loved him and that when it is his time to pass over, Roger will be waiting for him. There is no fear in death for him. That was his gift to my son.
How do you get past a broken heart when the soul you loved is all around you, coloring your world, and whispering in your ear. It might be timeto let you know that while this might sound crazy to some people it is normal for me. I have always had these gifts. They have always be welcome and I have accepted them. It’s no different with him. The truth is I want to tell him to go away, leave me alone, and let me be. I can’t though because then I would be alone and he would be gone. When an artist meets another artist in love it is a very intense union. All bets are off and all boundaries are re-written. Death cannot separate them.
So I write. I will continue to write until I have come to terms with this in my life. I don’t fight the grief…when the wave hits I cry. I cry at home, in the grocery store, at the doctors, but mostly on the beach. He wrote me a letter a week before he passed over which I received from his mother at the funeral. It was full of hope for the future and LOVE for me and the kids. The story wasn’t over…there was more to come; then he died.
This is not over. The writing will come for as long as the grief lives within me. I will find my peace along the way. It’s hard. I just want him back. I want to find a replacement. I want to stop hurting. I want someone in the flesh to love as much as I loved him. I want someone to love me as much as he loved me. So, I will write, I will cry, and I will not stop until I have healed myself. I will purge my soul. There is hope here. I feel it, and I know it, because it is what I want. XO Ella