What’s sorrow really, mom? … It’s hurt, sweetie. It’s this really deep grief, usually from losing love in some way, mostly suddenly… and I won’t say it, but it breaks my heart to know that it will happen someday for even my sweet, sweet baby. And another tear falls…
God… how many times have I heard it said, “It’s better to have loved & lost than to never have loved at all”? Well, that may be true, probably it’s true… like the old Garth Brooks song that said, “I could have missed the pain, but I’d have had to miss the dance”. Except when you first feel the pain…. you just think, oh God, I really don’t want this dance… I really can’t do this; this is way too much to ask… Why isn’t it too wrong to ask that I endure this?
This pain… the pain of losing soul deep love… Seemingly snatched so quickly that you struggle to remember that they were real… that you held them, that you saw them, that you heard them… and you think how… how is it possible that they could actually have been here?
How is it possible that they weren’t just a figment of your imagination when you finally realize, when you truly, honestly, completely know … that you will never, ever touch them again… that you will never, ever hear their voice again… that you will never, ever hear them say to you again, I love you… I love you… I love you…
I’m really not sure what the worst of it all is. I can’t quite tell if it’s during the immediate shock of the event that swells my heart into a pillow that suffocates breath or that new quiet of the day that emerges later… the lack of talking about nothing… the no laughing over just dumb or asking, sweetie – what do you think? Maybe that’s the most searing – those new quiet holes… those utterly empty extra minutes.
The fall, when sorrow called again, I switched on the autopilot. Only creativity was exceptional. The anger of pain has always been the most fruitful muse for me. Anger… once again my friend, made words fly through my fingertips faster than I could speak…through the struggle to breathe…and the primal desire to hit things and hurl them and hurt anything…
Grief, like fear, transmutes my normal fire into an inferno, a – set fire to the rain – fury. My inner warrior surges fiercely from me to fight and slash recklessly at the brutal fates; to slay the enemy of dreams, hopes and plans. To demand back what was mine, even while feeling within those pitiable new spaces of my broken heart, that it is only futility I battle.
He knew me… He knew me. Whenever I was rattled, he’d often say, poor bunny, you feel so much, so deeply….And just the sound of his voice saying those words was a comforting balm, a soothing hug. And he was right… I so do and I wonder how do I get myself through this too… Can I?
And then, eventually, reluctantly, I will admit yes, I suppose I will. I always have. It’s not even a choice, I just will. I know all of this; I’ve been on this ride awhile. I know I will slump soon… into a mix of muted warrior inertia.
I’ve lost before. I will breathe… I’ll walk through the motions of normal… in between the bouts of sobs and fury…and repeat, until I get to somewhere around the new normal. My spirit will once again console my heart.
Losses…to accidents or illnesses, those brutally tragic events, or to mental health issues, addiction issues, betrayals and even a great love gone wrong, this pain is the same sorrow. I know it is – I’ve lost people to all of these circumstances. When someone is gone, they’re gone and if you love them, it doesn’t hurt any less.
They’re gone… and that’s all we can feel – for as long as it takes to find our new steps in a changed song, until hopefully one day, we’ll also vaguely realize we’re humming the new melody under our breath.
And we plod on, hopeful…