Healing after loss daily meditations phần 21

MARCH 31 They that love beyond the world cannot be separated by it Death is but crossing the world, as friends the seas; they live in one another still —WILLIAM PENN This analogy of friends being separated by the breadth of the sea and yet living in one another strikes us as apt—and hopeful—as we consider the mystery of death After all, was our love ever dependent on the immediate physical world around us? Were we not somehow “in touch” with one another even though we might be a thousand miles apart To be sure, the death of the physical body is entirely different from being somewhere on the other side of the world! We cannot minimize the wrenching deprivation we experience when our loved one dies But in the ways in which our love was “beyond the world”—not dependent on a particular place or time or set of circumstances—surely that love persists, wherever we are, whatever the circumstances of our life now As I cherish my friends who are far away, I hold in my heart the memory of my loved one APRIL Because humor brings us back to earth, it helps us to use well what is left to us even when we are keenly aware of what we have lost or been denied Only those who know how to weep can also laugh heartily —KATHLEEN R FISCHER We are all familiar with those two line drawings for the theater: the comic face, the tragic face We know well that both comedy and tragedy are part of human life We hear the phrase “comic relief”—unexpected humor when the situation seems grim How does all this come to us when we are in the throes of our own grief? At first it may seem that nothing can ever be funny again Then we may find to our surprise that we are more appreciative of humor, not less, than those who are presently untouched by grief Are we startled? Do we think it “unseemly”—this laughter that erupts from us in the midst of sadness? But when we are down, comic relief is most needed—as a starving person craves food more than one who is well fed Our laughter is a safety valve against being inundated by grief, a vote of confidence that we won’t be floored by this event, sad though we may be Sometimes laughter is the best medicine APRIL The deadliest of all things to me is my loss of faith in nature No spring—no summer Fog always, and the snow faded from the Alps —JOHN RUSKIN This kind of pervasive depression is certainly what life feels like often, when we are living in the wake of grievous loss It’s as though we’re standing still If our own life will not move in the way we had wanted, we’re unwilling that anything else move in its accustomed way, either We even resent that night and day follow each other without taking note of our anguish How can they act out “business as usual” when our private world is in such chaos? It’s probably unavoidable, after the first rush of grief and crisis, that from time to time we hold the world, the seasons, the days and nights, at arm’s length—a kind of general anesthesia against life, because it is so painful to allow ourselves to feel Then, bit by bit, the nerve endings begin to tingle again We are, perhaps against our will, jarred into an awareness of life around us We are aware again that it is beautiful, and that we can take pleasure and nourishment from the world, even though our loved one has moved on My life is what I am given now I will trust that the fog will lift and the mountains will be beautiful once more APRIL A faithful friend is the medicine of life —THE APOCRYPHA During the week following the memorial service for our daughter, a friend called me every morning She was taking her teenage son to basketball camp a half hour’s drive into the country and asked if I would like to ride along I was hesitant I hadn’t known this friend for very long I knew she would encourage me to talk Did I really want to? Would I be so overwrought that I’d embarrass myself? It was a risk for me—as it was for her to invite me But I went—the first day, and then each day throughout the week Our rides to camp with her son were mostly quiet But on the way back we would often stop at the park, get a drink of something, and sit under a tree for a while I talked, and talked, and cried, and talked About what? About the feeling of loss, the day’s trivia, the rest of the family, the unfinished business with my daughter They were emotional times, of course, filled with articulated pain But each day as she dropped me off at my house, I felt better, able to go on The pressure was released once more—as steam is released when the lid is lifted from a boiling pot It was as elemental, as simple, as incontrovertible, as that Friends can help keep the flow of grief moving APRIL Faith is the centerpiece of a connected life It allows us to live by the grace of invisible strands It is a belief in a wisdom superior to our own Faith becomes a teacher in the absence of fact —TERRY TEMPEST WILLIAMS We would like to know, wouldn’t we? Or think we would Experiences like the loss of a loved one fill our lives with questions about the nature of life beyond death What is the nature of God? What will be our experience of God—and our loved one—after we ourselves die? Of course these are unanswerable questions But we have to something with our longing to know, with our yearning to continue a relationship with our loved one Blessed are those for whom faith can absorb the shock of not knowing, who can trust in “a wisdom superior to our own,” in “the grace of invisible strands.” Perhaps all of us, whatever our faith tradition, can extend our sense of trust into the unknown world Perhaps it seems a risk But it may help us profoundly And—unlike some risks—it won’t us any harm! Unknowing, I will trust the unknown  ... Experiences like the loss of a loved one fill our lives with questions about the nature of life beyond death What is the nature of God? What will be our experience of God—and our loved one? ?after we ourselves... depression is certainly what life feels like often, when we are living in the wake of grievous loss It’s as though we’re standing still If our own life will not move in the way we had wanted,... act out “business as usual” when our private world is in such chaos? It’s probably unavoidable, after the first rush of grief and crisis, that from time to time we hold the world, the seasons,