In bloom.
It’s been such a powerful lesson for me to say goodbye. Those words encompass music, laughter, joy, anger, tears, sadness, growth, independence, separation, togetherness, and love, just to mention a few.
Like most, I have lost my share of family, friends, and lovers. People who imprinted on my life, pieces of themselves, pieces of their own sorrows and joys, pieces of their life stories that ultimately blend with mine. I have over time melded some of those people, places, and things into my own story, and some I have let go, time teaches us which should stay, and which should go.
This loss closes a door for me that was left ajar because I love someone who loved someone. And when one of us left, when one of us died, the time had come to move completely away and begin on my own.
I have been incrementally closing a door for a long time, just when I thought I was done, it was burst wide open, by a force of nature, and at the time, a delightful storm ensued, but in the wake of its aftermath, yes aftermath, no storm stays forever… was destruction and rebirth. Like any storm, we can speak about it for years to come, the destruction and devastation that was experienced. The emotional and physical toll it took. What it took to rebuild.
Almost cleaned up from one storm and another comes through, purpose? Lesson? Gift? How can there be a gift in this devastation, this loss, this upheaval? Everything I once counted on was gone, that which I loved, was nowhere to be seen, my dreams and wishes have been blown away, there was a death toll for certain. I stood back, took stock, gathered my thoughts, cried, was thankful, and cried some more.
And then, the sun came out. The cleanup starts. With tears of sadness for what’s gone and with tears of appreciation for what’s left, I clean up the debris. As the mess gets sorted through, I find my strength, get a glimpse of a new beginning.
I’ve been caught in the spin of stories about loss, and the lie that tells me I will never be able to fully move on. I’ve been caught in the spin of the same story I convince myself is the only story. I’ve been caught in the spin of stories that keep me living over and over in the hurt of the loss.
But like a single flower making its way up through the black, burnt, ashy ground of a fire that has taken away everything, life shows itself. A hard-won smile gives way to laughter, sorrow gives way to joy, loss brings the most unlikely together, babies are born, the tides ebb and flow…
Loss comes in many forms. The belief in the loss of love that never had a chance to find its fullest form is one of the hardest losses, the most difficult of deaths. In its fullest form, love leaves nothing on the table, it shares its completeness with the ones we choose to love. In its fullest form, it abides all things and still loves. In its best expressed, love shows itself through each smile, twinkle of an eye, touch and even silence. Love in its truest form covers all things. When we fully share love, a parent, a child, a friend, and lover, fully share it, it in and of itself is complete. We can move on or let go in the wake of a death or loss with peace. When we feel there was more left to be said, more to share…we mourn. We mourn the loss of friendship, time, long pauses, breath, and depth of someone. We mourn.
The truth is, in any death, there is life, in any loss a new beginning. This door for me, has been slowly, oh so slowly closing, it would get almost there and then creak open again, just an inch or so but open. I’d tap it back to almost closed, you know what I mean, if you tap it a little it’ll move to a more open or closed position. I’d tap it back and watch to see if it would open again, just a bit, and it would. I’d tap it closed once more and watch and wait for the opening, in part hoping it would open fully OR close fully but not really having the heart to push it closed on my own… what if….
Now the corner stone is gone and there is no reason anymore for that door to quietly open, its time has passed, it’s time to put all those things I held on to so tightly… away.
Music, laughter, joy, anger, tears, sadness, growth, independence, separation, togetherness, and love.
The memories will arise from time to time, and with joy mixed with a little melancholy, I’ll remember. If I’ve done my job well, they will float off again to wherever memories go when we are done remembering them.
Maybe all love is good, even the unfinished kind, I don’t know yet, I hope I’ll know, I hope it will find me again in all its wild, harass-able, force of nature forms, and let it be known to me for a long, long time.
But for today, I’m unsure and most likely the little flower working hard to poke through the ruin. Tomorrow… in full bloom.
Always,
Krystine