It has been almost twenty years since Michelle died.
At first, back then, grief was all I knew. Grief waves took me over with a relentless ferocity. As the years rolled on, grief waves became less intense and showed up less often. Nowadays, grief waves are so rare that when they show up, they surprise me.
I have learned to not question the ways of Grief. When a grief wave randomly shows up, I no longer ask myself “why am I feeling this” or “what brought this on.” Now, when Grief shows up, I just acknowledge it. “I am in a grief wave,” I say to someone. Then I take some time to sit in silence with it. I have come to learn that when my most sacred teacher, Grief shows up, it has something to teach me.
Last week, on the day when Grief showed up, I told my meditation group that I was riding a grief wave and then sat with Grief during my 20 minutes of silent meditation.
From the focus of the observer, I followed my thoughts and emotions with curiosity and without judgement. What came up was John Hiatt’s song “Cry Love.”
The song played in my head. The words spoke of a broken heart, blood, and tears.
“…Now whatcha gonna do
When the planets shift?
Whatcha gonna do
Gonna slit your wrist?
And bleed all over the Milky Way
The stars in your eyes look red today
Cry love
Cry love
The tears of an angel
The tears of a dove
Spillin' all over
Your heart from above
Cry love
Cry love…”
I thought about blood: thick, rich, and sweet. I thought about how the heart pumps blood throughout our bodies, how blood runs through all our veins. I thought about how, if too much blood bleeds out, we will not live, and how our internal blood is necessary to live. I thought about the life blood of existence.
I thought about tears: releasing, washing, cleansing tears. I thought about collective tears being released, washing over the Milky Way, cleansing all of existence.
I thought about getting back to writing about grief. I heard a Voice inside my head say, “I have been giving you messages that you did not get.”
I thought about how, over the past few days, subtle thoughts had shown up in my mind when my mind was not distracted by the outside world. I remembered how I had been sitting on the toilet, spacing out in my head… thinking about how, when Fusun told me she was going away to write a book, I had said to her, “That’s what I am doing, too” ...and yet, I thought, I am not writing a book while I am here. I remembered that before I left Brattleboro, while telling someone I was going to write my books while traveling, Ash, overhearing me, said, “You have been saying you are writing a book, but it has not happened.” I remembered my reply: “But I will now.” And yet, I thought, I am still not writing that book.
I realized that the grief wave, stronger than the subtle thoughts, was a more powerful message, more able to capture my attention and help me listen. I realized Grief was giving me a gentle push to follow my Higher Calling. My Call to Self has been clear. "Write."
Grief wants me to do what I am here to do. Grief has my back. Grief is my ally.
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