For Thor - 23 - Growth

We are marking six weeks since you died, today. How is it possible that I am writing these horrible words? How can it be true? Six weeks since I saw your smile and heard your laugh? Six weeks since you were a living breathing part of our family. Six weeks ago you moved on to another realm of being and we are here living out this hellish nightmare.

My mind rose out of sleep last night to find my thoughts preoccupied with you and your death. As usual. The middle of the night is when a lot of grief work happens, and I never know what will come up. As you might imagine, I was busily gnawing on a big wad of Mama Anger - the emotion of the day - when I threw myself out of bed in exasperation to stare out the window. Thought by thought I work to build an attitude of forgiveness. It's a struggle to dismantle the platform of anger and replace each plank with brand new planks of forgiveness. It doesn't happen overnight, and it only comes with diligent practice. I can tell you this; I am a reluctant forgiver at 2:30 in the morning, tired, shivering in my jammies and mentally roiling inside.

A car alarm suddenly went off in the driveway.

At first, I couldn't make sense of what I was seeing and thought it was Chaz's truck that had gone crazy. I woke Dad to stop it since he has that key. He looked outside and informed me that it was, in fact, my car that was blinking and blaring in the dark of the night. My car? What? My car alarm has never gone off. Ever.

In light of the conversation we were having when I woke and stared out the window, I took this to be you dropping by to let me know you hear me, and you are making damn sure I hear you. You know I'm mad, and I know you're sorry. I heard you implore me to find forgiveness in my heart. For all of our sakes. Anger is natural and has its purpose. I need to roar and yell at you and me and God and everyone. "This is some stupid fucking shit!" I scream into the abyss. Then anger must be returned to my back pocket. It is a catalytic force and is not supposed to be a state of being.

Used mindfully, anger gives voice to the deep hurt that lingers in the abyss of my soul. It amplifies and then burns away the anxious thoughts and regret I have about what "should be." It purges, clears and lays bare fresh ground primed for cultivating a new crop. However, before planting seeds, the ground must be prepared. And this is the role of forgiveness. It soothes and renders my heart ready to germinate the seeds of new life and unconditional love.

I see that this is not a linear journey. There is no direct path to take in this world colored by grief. I have been and will continue to be all over the map as I find my way back to wholeness. All my pieces are scattered, it is the only way to collect them all. I can be mad and forgive dozens of times over. As these circular cycles spin through my being they render my heart a little clearer and each time, a few more seeds are planted. I will be simultaneously mad, sad, happy, forgiving, cultivating and blossoming love for the rest of my life. This is the human condition, after all. Perhaps I'll learn to experience it with more awareness and compassion, now.

Thanks for the flashing lights and blaring horns, last night, Thor. I'm glad you came by to let me know you heard me roar and that you asked me to move beyond the anger. We are all worthy of love and forgiveness. We are all more than what we see on the surface. We are more than the story that surrounds us. We are all divine beings who have the potential to deeply affect each other's lives. You remind me of that, Thor. Everyday.

I miss you terribly. I love you deeply.
Forever and always, 

Mom