crystal clear on some days
nebulous at best on others
but always found
with a wee bit of writing
I've been brought to my knees by my mom's pending death. The slow steady decline. Her total peace and surrender to the process. I am humbled. And, my heart is being ripped wide open.
I didn't write for a few days. We replaced the floor in my office the dogs had decided to use as their giant pee-pad. Each day turned darker and I turned more and more within. Yesterday I was finally able to sit at my desk and write. With each line, I could feel the grip on my chest loosening. The tears are falling intermittently now and my world is moving.
Writing is my lighthouse. It is what gives voice to the emotions swirling around inside my head. It opens my heart and helps me to ground myself in the here and now. Having had the few days without, I know how critical it is to my mental health and my overall well-being.
Grieving is tough. Anticipatory grief maddening. But writing helps me let some of this energy loose from my body.
I am so used to helping, trying to fix, offering something to soothe a pain or illness. Sitting and allowing my mom the grace to die in peace has been a whole other kind of healing. It's the healing of honoring another's desires whether I agree or not. It's the healing of relationships. It's also deep surrender and life-changing.
Photo credit: Jason Williard (1983-2016)