10 years …

10 years, how can it be? A lot happens in 10 years, and then again it doesn’t. That’s grief. It can spin you around and throw you back into hospital rooms, times together, or even times only wished for. 

He was my first love, happy and full of dreams for the future. A cheeky smile, well for me anyway, lots of things were just for me, just mine and his, that first love of mine.

He had so much pain in the end, at least he is not in pain anymore. That is a comfort on one hand and a million unanswered questions on the other. That’s grief. 

It’s odd that after 10 years some people only know the now me, and never knew him at all. So bizarre. The now me that is happy and very grateful to have found love No 2. But they might not know what that sometimes, far away, absent look is about, not without knowing my first love and I. That is also grief. 

You know what else is grief, feeling ripped off! I always wanted to be that couple married for a billion years. Old as the hills and together since the flood! But that was taken away. I know I will still know a lot of years married, but it was just something I had always wanted. A deep down in my heart thing. You don’t go into life together thinking the “Till death do you part” will actually happen, well not until you are like 90 anyway. There’s a lot of things that get ripped away. A tearing of what was joined together. The two become one but then there is a gaping that is somehow empty and heavy all at the same time. 

Grief.

When my first love died the grief accentuated the loss of all the wonderful things that would be no more. Then, after a while a gratefulness for the wonderful things grew, then, after another while the memories of those things not so wonderful also surfaced. Like any marriage we had our moments, sometimes loud moments! Regret and despondency tried to settle in beside the gratefulness, corroding away the perfect picture that had formed. It’s hard to make peace when only one of you is left. It’s a hard one. Wanting always to keep the wonderful alive and letting go of what I can’t change all at the same time is a challenge. 

Time does help, wounds kind of heal over eventually, his name became easier to say without falling apart. Eventually. But there is always a scar, a war wound as such. Like a soldier pointing out where the bullet entered, or a patient’s scar from open heart surgery. Never the same again, just never the same. The memory of the injuries rush back when your hand brushes over the wound site. You feel the bumps and hard parts of the tearing that just couldn’t quite be put back together properly. 

I remember a feeling of hope trying to wash over me when I came home from the hospital.  Hope is usually a positive emotion, and eventually it was, but not this day. It accentuated the tragedy and pointed heavily to the loss. Like pressure on the wound, a tourniquet that was on one hand stemming the life hemorrhaging out of me while also causing immense pain. Saving my life, even though I didn’t really want to be saved. I wanted it all to go away, and back to what it used to be. I didn’t want to need hope, but it sat in front of me waiting to be held. I wanted to stay in bed and if not for my kids I may have.

Hope made me see the reality of where I stood, feeling alone but somehow not alone. Helpless but with a huge guiding hand leading my way, even in the darkness. It was Divine, holding my hand and guiding the steps I didn’t know how to take. Eventually I took hold of it and looked up. That was the hardest step of all. That step acknowledged that my love was truly gone and would not be back. 

But it is the only way to live on. 

So where is my grief now after 10 years? I am a recovering patient, no need for intensive care, but the therapy will be forever. Happy to smile at the memories and accepting of the pangs that come alongside them. They mean it was true love. He is someone to be missed and grateful for at the same time. He lives forever as long as I remember him. And I will always remember him. That first love of mine. 

Questions and a deep breath in

God can you hear me? 

I have talked to the void many, many times. Wondering. Hoping. 

I have asked the questions, sometimes through silent sobs. You know the ones that wrench your insides, the ones that make your head feel like it might implode if the pressure is not released. The questions that are filled with why, how come and it’s just not fair. 

They have been different over the years. They began when I noticed my dad was not a dad, why did he this, why did he that? Year after year seemed to have a way of creating more scars, more questions. 

No answers.

Left to my own devices I created more and more questions. I just wasn’t helping myself. I just did not have a way to turn things around. Trouble begets trouble, ain’t that the truth!

Then one day (don’t you hate it when people say that, but it’s true, one day…) I went to church with friends and decided there had to be another way. I realize I’m slipping into TV Evangelist speak so I will do my best here… The other way was to say yes to Heaven. That was my 16 year old thinking at the time. I know, I know religious fanatics, take it easy I know it’s God, I know it’s Jesus. But there and then someone asked me about Heaven and I decided I would go there one day. 

I have gone through many ebbs, many flows since then but I still believe it. It’s still a comfort. 

I still have many questions, things I do not understand. 

Why does one die and one live? One healed, one not? I don’t know. There are still sobs.

I have learnt a few things along the way that take the sting out of the “not knowing” though, I call them hope, peace and grace. They are not book learning outcomes, they are outcomes that come from giving up, closing my eyes and lifting my heart Heavenward to a God I cannot see. It is not an equation I can apply a formula to, it’s a deep breath in and a decision to trust that even when I do not know, He knows and makes a way through. 

Ignorance and entitlement made me think I needed every answer. I was wrong. I do not oversee the universe and I do not deserve to know everything about everyone. None of us do. That’s hard, I get that. But faith to believe it is on the other side of trusting He wants the best for you. 

There will be hard times, that’s a fact. I do not waste my breath debating it. Have I deserved the sadness? That is the wrong question. Am I alone in my sadness? Will I ever get through this sadness? Will I ever be OK again? These are the right questions. They are the answers I have. 

Many highs, many lows, but One constant, never changing, the same yesterday, today and forever One has a way through for me. 

I will be OK. 

Deep breath in, eyes closed, I am never, ever, ever alone. 

To Our Kids

I know this day is hard for you. You cannot replace a Dad, you cannot replace your Dad. 

9 years is a long time. It’s not just 9 years since he’s gone, it’s 9 years that you have grown, changed and become adults. A lot has changed. 

I was looking through some old photos and remembering what a mess our first house was. All the building mess, it was a complete disaster zone. But it was our disaster, and your Dad was so proud. He took something so run down and made it our first home. I don’t know how you remember it, but I remember so much from there. So much of your young lives. I remember thinking it was never going to come together, but it did. That it would look like garbage forever, but it didn’t. I couldn’t see how that horrible house could be a beautiful home.

To my beautiful children know that what feels so much like garbage and no matter what you can or cannot remember, it can still come together. I know so much relies heavily on your memories and keeping him alive in your hearts, which is not the same, or doesn’t even seem fair. But this is what we have and it is true. We have the truest, most precious knowing that he loved you more than life itself, and that is something beautiful. 

We made mistakes as parents, we knew that. But we did what we knew to do, to keep you safe, and to try and show you the best of life. Our decisions were made around what we thought was best for us as a family. It’s OK if you remember some tough stuff. Life isn’t all sunshine and roses. Just put it in this perspective – we did the best we could with who we were at any given time. Not excuses, just that no one is perfect and sometimes there is mud to tread. 

Your Dad was a “boots all in kind of a guy”. He went headlong into whatever project, business or idea it was at the time. From a rag business, lawn mowing, building, farming, church, stock market, and even wanted to get into bitcoin all those years ago … but I must apologize I couldn’t get my head around what it was so we didn’t buy any!!! He was also like that with you guys, you were his everything, pride, joy and his reason to want to do more. 

I remember pizza and movie nights, camping trips, long car trips to see family, I remember playing Santa with him and planning your birthdays, I remember him reading you stories on the bunk beds and playing soccer at the park. I also remember his sadness. The pain he felt over his parents separation and the struggle he felt to be enough for them.  I think that also fed his desire to want to help young men be their best selves. A mixed bag of memories that all go together to create a life. It’s still a life I keep alive in my heart and still share with you. 

I pray for you all to always know and feel the love of your father and the Love of your Father. From my own absent father I get the part that an actual physical parent is the preferred option, but we can’t change these facts of life, we move through them and hopefully make choices to do the best with what we have. Not to just feel a measure of happiness and love, but a full measure. 

I believe he prays for you everyday and longs to see us all again one day, I hope you do too. Carry him with you always with a knowing that he loved you deeply, strongly, and enduringly. 

Your mum xxx

Sparrows & Lilies

A friend’s son died last week. So shocked, sad and sad. They are not my tears to cry, but I cry them. It is a shared sorrow that my heart knows well. A shared helplessness that I cannot understand. 

It is a complete juxtaposition with where I currently find myself. On a holiday houseboating down the Murray in South Australia. It’s so beautiful, magnificent cliffs, a majestic river, and good times with friends we see all to seldomly. Then the news from others, themselves at a funeral I could not attend. 

I sat this morning in the sunshine thinking through the questions we ask in these moments and all the cliches that just don’t cut it when grief comes to visit. You know, all the whys, what ifs and what could have beens. 

And another tear, another wave, another all too familiar feeling.

But how to make sense of the nonsensical? 

I cast my inner eyes up as a kind of prayer, with no tangible words, just a heart of feeling, and longing for answers and comfort for my friends. With hope that the words that come will help to make some sense.

We are chugging along on the Murray and these little birds, maybe swallows, maybe sparrows, have accompanied us along the whole journey. They fly around the boat, under the boat, and rest on our handrails. We wondered why, are there bugs on our boat for them, but they do not seem to be eating anything, is there a nest, but we cannot find one … they simply seem to enjoy it. They are having fun, not a care in the world.

On the banks of the river reeds bounce in the breeze, heaving with flowers, as if to bow and stand, bow and stand. Not a care in the world, they have all they need. 

So I considered them. It is familiar. It’s a bible passage that tells us to look at the birds without a care in the world, and the flowers in the field that get all they need without a human hand ever tending them. Yet the point of the story is greater: as much as God cares for those things, He sees and cares for us so much more. He just knows. He knows what we need and what makes us sad.

Bible stories help us to see ourselves in another light. We should make ourselves one of the characters and respond from there. If I am a bird, I can fly, I know I can, I believe I can. If I am a flower I  grow towards the sun consuming all the goodness that is around me. My response is a “knowing”. Knowing I am cared for, adored, loved, accepted, provided for, held, even in the sadness, even when the clouds are very, very grey.

He tells me not to look too far ahead, just for right now to know He cares. One day at a time. Moment by moment. Tomorrow will take care of itself. In this moment He knows what I need, what my friends need. He just knows. 

The birds of the air and the flowers in the field are OK. 

Loved, cared for, and sustained. 

Even through tears: loved, cared for, and sustained. 

 “So do not worry about tomorrow; for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.”

Matthew 6:26 – 34

26 Look at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren’t you far more valuable to him than they are? 27 Can all your worries add a single moment to your life?

28 “And why worry about your clothing? Look at the lilies of the field and how they grow. They don’t work or make their clothing, 29 yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are. 30 And if God cares so wonderfully for wildflowers that are here today and thrown into the fire tomorrow, he will certainly care for you. Why do you have so little faith?

31 “So don’t worry about these things, saying, ‘What will we eat? What will we drink? What will we wear?’ 32 These things dominate the thoughts of unbelievers, but your heavenly Father already knows all your needs. 33 Seek the Kingdom of God[e] above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need.

34 “So don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today.

It’s OK with me

I just let out a big sigh of relief. I decided that it’s OK. It’s OK that I am not yet OK. 

OK?

This morning I sat with some beautiful women that have faced some of life’s worst. Death, divorce, and debilitating illnesses just to name a few. Different circumstances leading to similar heart responses: grief, hopelessness, sadness, weariness, loneliness, and despair to to name a few more. We talked about our journeys and how we feel now. It made me think, “Am I OK? Where am I in my journey to wholeness?” And I have to concede, I am not there yet.

 And it’s OK with me.

It’s OK to not load myself with the unrealistic pressure of having to have it all together, to look the part, to always put a smile on a face that sometimes aches. 

If life was only one hardship followed by years of recovery time all would be well. But this is rarely the case. Often our initial load of grief/sadness/hardship is followed by another adding to the load. Our shoulders stoop and the heaviness wearies our soul. Recovery appears set back and hopeless thoughts creep in. We pressure our soul to be better, stronger, look the part…

But why? I think, note I am not a professional I just think, we look at it all wrong. We see in a straight line with expectations of ourselves that are unrealistic and shrouded in appearance management. Life seldom behaves as it ought. It isn’t a series of hurdles down a smooth, straight track. It’s an adventure where you experience valleys, the cliff edge, rainbows in the rain, resting in the sun, beautiful sunsets and the dark of night. There is no prescription for it, no point A, B, and C then everything will be OK, well not for most. I think we intrinsically hope for the best but our perception of ‘the best’ is warped. Fame, riches, the biggest house, having it all together, and feeling elatedly happy all the time are not goals … they are outcomes. We are striving for the wrong things, controlling the wrong aspects of our life and measuring success by all things outward. If we could, if I could, see that the twists and turns in life are our light and shade, the hues that contribute to who we are, then we might relax somewhat . It doesn’t mean all disease miraculously disappears, or recovery time shortens, it just means I am who I am and I don’t need to belittle that with pretense. Sadness is still sadness, heartache is still real but I do not need to be on an unreal timeline of being OK, that ‘who knows who’ has dictated. 

There is enough we all face without the extra load of pretense, and thank God it’s not all darkness, I love a good sunset as much as the next guy! We all need to get by and we just can’t fall apart all the time, it’s pretty unrealistic in the world we have created. The day may not have produced the opportunity or outcome we desired, but is that really failure? We are walking our own adventure the way we know how to. Be OK with it, then you can be open to seeing what is around the corner, no amount of looking backwards will stop you from tripping over.  But at the end of each day our soul can be lighter, and brightened by knowing we are not failing, we just added another shade. 

I am forever grateful that even in the dark night I do not walk alone, this is my biggest and my greatest comfort. I walk knowing that God who created me knows my every step and continually whispers (sometimes shouts) in my ear to keep going. It is my ultimate truth. Not alone and keep on going, It’s OK. He does not ask me to be what I am not, after all I am His handiwork. I’m OK to Him.

I decided it’s OK with me. I’m going on the adventure,

And that’s OK.

Photo by @gordotkt

DISASTER FATIGUE, or just feeling a bit crappy!

I like to be tough, strong, if you ask me how I am, I’m fine. And I am. Physically I am, but emotionally I am tired. I don’t like to admit it, someone might say “you poor thing”, and I dislike that intensely. 

Our local area has flooded, the trauma rising and falling, loss swirling around the community. Drought, bush fires and now floods, not to mention COVID. Trees that were blackened are now being uprooted and washed away. Peoples everything washed away completely or covered in thick, brown sludge, too foul to be called mud. Livelihoods ruined, lives changed forever…again and again. 

It has all made me realise a certain fatigue, a tiredness of soul that has crept up and up over many years. I have been reading about vicarious trauma, compassion fatigue and many syndromes that are finding new names as research goes on. I do not have a definitive conclusion, but if it’s not a thing already I think “Disaster Fatigue” should be included in the list. But my own characterisation the symptoms include

• Tiredness
• Brain Fog
• Wakefulness
• Lack of being able to put a sentence together (maybe that’s normal for me!)
• The need to consume junk food to calm the soul
• The constant scrolling through Facebook groups offering help and assistance
• Helping out in the community beyond your capabilities, enhanced by inability to say no
• The need for binge watching Everybody Loves Raymond to laugh and get one’s mind on something else
• And many, many more nondescript symptoms yet to be discovered and characterised

I think the last ten years have taken a toll, of course they have, before any natural disasters the most unnatural disaster depleted me internally. This blog began as a personal tool for healing. An exercise in trying to make sense of a new world without a husband, without a father and without a reason to go on. So much changed. In writing about my feelings I have come to grips with them, I understand myself in a new way. Life became simpler, and offered me a way to move forward. 

Now I want that again, I want to see beyond the suffering that has become stock standard in my community. I know beyond a shadow of doubt that there is always hope. It is always offered, always available, sometimes it just seems hidden behind the latest disaster. For me I find that hope in my Faith, I can receive hope from a source Greater than I am, more able than I am. 

In church this morning while everyone was singing beautifully, I found myself thinking about active recovery. After strenuous activities low intensity exercises help to keep the blood flowing through your muscles, aiding in recovery by preventing lactic acid build up that can contribute to muscle soreness, toxin build up and decreased flexibility. That’s what I need. I need to stretch, to help out when I can. To keep moving, not letting hopelessness or despair take hold. To keep on walking, fixing my eyes on more than the circumstances around me. I need to actively feed my soul to rid it of toxins like self doubt, cynicism, and selfishness. They can cause a lot of pain. 

So I did. I gardened, I made myself go to church, I ate a good lunch, I rested some and then I wrote. Guess what? Of course, I feel so much better. My soul feels a little lighter already. It will take more time, but I can see it again, the hope. It’s there, not quite brimming, but it will be OK. 

A little more tomorrow, and even more the next day. Not passive, but seeking and finding, searching and receiving. One foot after the other, stretch, recover, stretch, recover … and hope is clear again.

Are you depleted? Do you need to some low impact activity to make you feel alive again? What do you love to do? Be kind to yourself, yet tough enough to do what you need to do. One step at a time, little bit by little bit.  I’m no expert but here are a few ideas

• Talk to a friend, if not comfortable with that try a counselor/doctor
• Go for a short walk
• Listen to music 
• Garden, fish, golf, tennis, ride, climb…whatever the thing is you love, because you love it not because the cool kid down the road does it
• Say yes when someone asks you out for a coffee, meal or catch up. 
• Know that your life has purpose, you have a reason for living. God doesn’t make filler-inners, just real deals.
• Pray, knowing life is more than the sum of the circumstances around you. Ask for His peace, He longs to give it.

• 

Seismic Grief

Do you ever have heavy days? I do. Not your period or weighing yourself on the scales! I’m talking the weight on your shoulders, the fog in your brain and the sad in your heart. I had one of those yesterday. No reason for it, nothing bad happened. I just felt heavy.

I heard a song that began a ripple, like seismic activity beginning deep inside, that created a wave, that brought me to where I sit right now. One small tear escaped and made me think about my first husband. He was a good man, and I had the privilege of having his love. I know he loved me. Not everyone can say that, I know I was, and still am, one of the lucky ones. We all miss him, we miss him very, very much. 

It’s grief. 

Grief can sweep you off your feet in a moment, or slowly gain momentum until it reaches a point that it has become unstoppable. It can take you where you don’t want to go. I don’t want to be in this funk, it’s not where I want to be. But it’s the price I paid when I first let him into my heart. 

I remember panicking when he would go surfing and not come home for hours. The reality was he just didn’t have a watch and was having fun. He didn’t know dinner had been ready, he just knew when the sun went down. But I sat at home imagining his funeral, how dumb was that! I was so fearful of losing him. I had to consciously tell myself it was unlikely, unreasonable and talk myself back into normal all the while praying for peace to calm my scared heart. There were nearly 20 years in between that fear and actually losing him. I’m so glad I didn’t waste all those years fearing I would lose him. I know I did lose him, but I had 20 years. 20 years, 3 kids, a home and a life together. I am grateful for that, at the same time I’m sad about that. 

That’s grief.

Although our lives together ended, I still have a life to live. To love, to give and be with those that are still here. I still have a purpose. It didn’t end when his days did. I breathe in, I breathe out. I cry at work and the new guy is freaked out! But I know I’m OK, it’s just releasing the pressure and allowing my heart to once again let love back in. 

I will continue to tell myself  “Don’t panic, don’t be unreasonable, or unrealistic” . Even though I know the realities, I still don’t want to waste my days. I will continue to pray for that peace. It’s supernatural, it’s real and it’s good. Faith hope and love are really good. 

Good grief. I can feel again.

The Truth About Memory Lane

Recently I traveled interstate to see family in my hometown. During the long drive my mind drifted down memory lane; school, friends, family, the good and bad and some very ugly. My husband and I mused this week how our brain seems to gravitate to that ugly. So many beautiful things may happen, but we can get stuck in the ugly. For a moment I was stuck.

I felt my stomach turn, my pulse rate quicken, I was on full alert. Fight or flight kicked in and I wasn’t sure why. I began to cross examine my thoughts, I had been thinking of a town close by, teenage years, what people would be good to see and the people I didn’t want to see… and there it was. My mind flooded with ugly. How ugly he made me feel, the lines he crossed and what he had no right in taking. I really did not want to see him. 

That guy nearly destroyed me. I remember the whispers “I could kill you right now”, “The only way no one else can be with you is if I kill you”, and his favourite “I will kill myself if you leave me”. In the end I didn’t care, I was dying on the inside and had lost all hope of a knight in shining armour riding in to save me. 

I began the unhelpful self talk “You should be over this”, “It was so long ago, just forget about it”, and my achilles heel “Practise what you preach, you big fraud”. After listening to this fabulous self dialogue I knew I had to deliberately redirect my thoughts. But I was stuck. It was like being in quicksand, a heaviness compressing my chest, flight and not fight was looking better and better all the time. The only combatant I could think of using was the truth.

Truth. He was not one of the good guys, he was hurt but his response was not to be brave, he chose to hurt. He manipulated, he stalked, he smothered, he threatened, and he forced. More truth. He made me feel ugly, but I am not. He took control of my world, but he does not have that permission anymore. He made me feel frightened, but I chose a Protector. He made me feel dirty but I have a faith that washes me clean, over and over and over again until I believe it. 

Driving along I began to meet truth with more truth. I defended each allegation with everything I have learnt and experienced since then. My mum helped rid him from my life, but the damage had been done, I was left in a dark place, no light at the end of the tunnel. I remember thinking it wasn’t worth going on. A few months later I chose to give my control away again, but this time I chose well. I chose to give my heart to God, to One greater and more loving than I felt I deserved. I gave my heart to the Healer, the Peacemaker, to the only Father I had ever known. 

I am the sum of my experiences, they have shaped my responses to life, I cannot change that. As with grief, sometimes my soul attempts to drag me back down into the quicksand, I feel the very real emotions. I am thankful that God does not belittle me in that time as I tend to do to myself. Instead, as all gentlemen do, He offers His hand and waits for me to accept it. To reach back out of stuck and allow Him to lift me back into reality. A much safer, worthwhile and loving reality. 

I didn’t run into the guy, I didn’t have an empowering moment to put him in his place, life is not a movie plot. But I am not stuck anymore. I am free, I am me and I can breathe freely. 

Why do I share this? That’s an easy one, so it has a purpose, so some good can come of it. Do you ever feel stuck in quicksand? Do you ever feel your heart quicken and the need to run? If you do consider this, there is a Hand reaching for you, to help you, guide you and love you. If you take that hand He will not disappoint, that has been my truth. 

The Truth.

Honest.

Keep Going

What do I do when I can do no more? I keep going. I breathe in and out and in and out until it takes. Until the ember of hope sparks so I feel love again. I feel God again. In the most unlikely way, most likely. When disappointment grasps what life is left, when it strangles and suffocates…it’s not the end. 

It’s another opportunity to prove beyond all doubt that love conquers all. Not mine, I’m flawed, not yours, you falter, but Love bigger than us all. 

Supernatural. Unmeasurable. Unsearchable. 

When my heart feels so heavy, so full of trouble, so full of what I can’t control, I bend. I double under the weight. How can they? Why did they? So much I can’t control, so much I can’t be. My heart it breaks, and I’m broken. 

Is that OK? Is that the end. No it can’t be. 

This isn’t trite, this isn’t small, this for me is the answer to it all. Breathe in and out and in and out until it takes. Until the ember of hope sparks so I feel love again. I feel God again.

Another day, another way shows me I’m not alone. What life takes, it does not give back. No potions or luck. But if I open my eyes I see it, I feel it, I know it all around. One truth, one love, that shows me again. I can love.

When I don’t know what to do, or it doesn’t make sense. I can love. When it seems too hard, too much. I can love. I borrow from a well, again and again, so deep deep deep. 

The smallest shift, just a little incline. A leaning in so I see it, feel it, know it again. Just keep going, one day at a time. 

Breathe in and out and in and out until it takes. Until the ember of hope sparks so I feel love again. I feel God again.

Keep going.

Where There’s Smoke…

A smouldering fire lingers just beyond our house. By day it burns slowly eating  through tree roots, by night we are veiled by it’s smoke, embers glowing, threatening to ignite. I just want it to end, for it to be over.

“Dense smoke resulting from slow or suppressed combustion.”* Smouldering fire, no warning, nor does it seek permission. It just lingers underground seeking my attention,  my energy, and my peace. 

Where there’s smoke there’s fire. Right? That’s what we have all been told, we see the warning signs and know there’s a problem. 

As I read about smouldering fires, my internet search suggested “Smouldering Myeloma” the disease I despise. My late husbands disease: it threatened, it lingered, it sought no permission. We saw the smoke, and it was too late. The fire had spread and spread and spread. 

This is not where I saw this blog going. This was going to be my thoughts about our recent bushfires. A follow on story to the last. I guess one tragedy stirs up another, a different follow on story. 

I felt dizzy and nauseous, caught completely off guard, that’s what grief can feel like, that’s “suppressed combustion”. It can’t be controlled or predicted. Smoke rising through the cracks, kindled by memories, moments and a million different everyday things. 

I let my guard down this afternoon, I breathed a sigh of relief, surely the worst was over. Within minutes siren shrills sounded and the neighbourhood sprung into action. The smoulder reared its ugly head. Grief can be like that, guard down, unsuspecting, then an ember is fanned into flames. The fire didn’t last long but it reminded me that it’s not over. You just never know. Grief can be like that too, it isn’t ever over. 

I can’t see it now but green shoots will spring from the ash and charcoal, it will take a while. As with grief, it doesn’t always threaten to destroy. If it’s dry enough, if it’s given enough fuel, it can go up. But after a good while not all the memories produce smoke, they become a salve, soothing, because I know I once held someone close that was special, beautiful, loving. It was real and alive. 

Grief reminds me that I have loved and been loved. It’s lasting and true beyond the years he walked beside me. Love that begets love. Because I knew that love I can know new love, I know what it should feel like. I feel it still and with another I feel it anew. It’s more than I could ever have hoped for. 

Smouldering fires will end, but love, it goes on forever.

 

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in

my heart)i am never without it(anywhere

i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done

by only me is your doing,my darling)

i fear

no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want

no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)

and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant

and whatever a sun will always sing is you

 

Here is the deepest secret nobody knows

(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud

and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows

higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)

and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

EE Cummings
*https://www.dictionary.com/browse/smoulder