Monday, October 19, 2009

"You have been here and you are everything"

(Cross posted from my private blog)


Well, I've been over at the Cancer blog, and if you know me at all, you've been reading that. I now feel very blog-less, as Dad is gone, and this blog was very centered on workout routines and food obsessions. I am somewhere in between the two, both nowhere and everywhere. I am still very much consumed with what the last 18 months have been to our family, and the ripples are still ebbing out farther away from the epicenter of it all. The rest of the world is in full stride, and here I struggle to get in step. I stumble, trip, sometimes stop all together. I want so desperately to find my normal again. What 'normal' is, continues to evolve for all of us. I still don't sleep, barely eat. I am overwhelmed with my own grief, and yet I have to deal with the grief of my children and mother. I feel compelled to be the strong one, yet inside, I am breaking to pieces.

If I've learned anything throughout this, it's that life is fleeting and fragile, and it shouldn't be wasted worrying about bullshit. I've learned that there are people that step up to the plate when there's tragedy, and then there are those who won't. For whatever reasons, they cannot be there for you. I have been appalled and angry at individuals I thought were my friends, but I have come to a form of acceptance. I pity those who can't trudge through with someone they care about. I find it sad that they will never truly experience the full range of emotion life can bring. It's not just about the sweetness and joy; it's about the sadness, bitterness, and grief. Sharing with someone in their darkest hours is deeply intimate, and I will forever feel a connectedness to those who reached out to me while my father lay dying.

I no longer fear death. As a child, it terrified me. I could not imagine anything worse than my parents dying, or me dying. I have found serene peace in all of this. Death will come for me, someday, I hope not too soon, but when it does, all I pray for is a beautiful death. It is a journey, a pathway to the cosmos, and I feel immensely and profoundly honored that I could walk that path with Dad. I couldn't follow him all the way, but I stood on the shore and waved goodbye, and watched him drift away. What greater honor is there than that?

I don't know what this blog or the other one will become. I don't know where I'll post or what I'll post about. But I'm still here.

All you hear is time stand still in travel
And feel such peace and absolute
The stillness still that doesn't end
But slowly drifts into sleep
The greatest thing you've ever seen
And they're there for you
For you alone you are the everything
For you alone you are the everything

1 comment:

FallenAngel said...

You still have a lot to write. You may not know it yet. But the next month, the next 6 months, the next year - the next 10 years - it is all still part of the process. There will still be grief.

And there is always life.

And it seems like writing is a part of life for you.