For Thor - 31 - Snow-capped Violet

The past couple of days has been odd for me. I am in that no man's land of healing. I feel good enough to do stuff but pushing it to do too hard triggers a setback. The dusting of snow on the ground this morning, after we had been warming to spring-like temperatures, reminds me of this. Winter, this winter of my soul, is not yet over. I know it will never really be over. Every single day of my life from this day forward will have a tinge of sorrow cast over it. The shadow of your death hovers, ever present, always close, a permanent mark upon my life. All our lives.

What made the past two days strange was that in my conscious mind, grief was not the prevailing thought or emotion. There was room to think about other things; signing Chaz up for classes, cleaning out the refrigerator, calling the DMV, going to the office for a visit with my team. I realized as I was sweeping the floor yesterday that I didn't think about you continuously while you were alive. My mind was not preoccupied with your whereabouts or doings each and every moment of the day and night. Not thinking about you all the time was normal. I did stuff. I lived my life and took care of business. As we all do. We each have our paths that intersect in this marvelous thing we call family.

I found that I am uneasy with this new phase of separation. It takes some getting used to. I don't like that it makes me feel farther away from you. Picking up the pieces of my heart, soul and life that have been scattered to the wind and putting them back in order, without you here, is so unsettling. It's a little comical since I have no attention span. I have to work from lists and even then getting things done is an iffy business. But I did get stuff done. The important things that needed me to turn my attention to it once again.

One thing is clear, I am not the same. The "me" that existed on the morning of December 31 is not the same "me" that awoke this morning.  The reassembled pieces are making something new and different. Vastly so. And this is not a bad thing. I've been taking stock of the priorities that had filled my days before, my previous obsessions, cares, and woes. Not all of them are worth picking up, again. They are done for me now, and so I've cast them aside into the reject pile. Only a handful of things has arisen to be worth my attention and time. These will help me build the bridge to carry myself out of this blasted landscape which is defined by abject suffering and sorrow and into the land of harmonious, beautiful, and conscious living.

There is a message I keep getting that I am sure is from you, Thor. At least, it comes to me in your voice, and I feel you holding my hand as it echoes in my heart. My badass angel, as ever, is looking out for me. "Do only what brings beauty, harmony and benefit into the world, Mom. Live so that your heart sings and helps others' sing, too."

And so, I sweep the floor and care for your brothers. I take pictures, color seashells or write every day. I seek refuge in the deep abiding peace of I Am and let that force live through me. Learning how to move out into the bustling world with all its clashing cherished opinions and personalities remains a daunting prospect. I don't yet feel strong enough to engage fully in such raucous activity. I must find a course that allows for the expression of beauty and truth. I have to make way for my Bohemian Heart to beat wild, free, undaunted to its sacred rhythm.

When a person's entire inner landscape is obliterated, and all that is left is the vastness of the cosmos, it's a contracting, shrinking activity to pull life back into the daily structure. Making this shift, as I begin to engage in the activities of the practical side of life, takes much time and patience. I opened my work email inbox three days in a row, and my brain didn't try to crawl out of the back of my skull. I shopped for groceries with an eye toward future meal-planning  - not just cheese and crackers. These are good signs.

I have found a measure of peace and beauty in the bottom of the well of grief.  I am beginning the physical and emotional rehabilitation for reentry into the land of the living. But make no mistake, I will be doing it with a whole new set of priorities. 

Winter. Spring. Winter. Spring. Spring. Spring….
Like the tiny, brave violet in the grass, I will bloom into a new day.
Even caressed by winter's chilling kiss,
The new me will turn my tear-stained face toward the sun.
Thus, I will emerge to live and sing again.

I love you, 
Mom