For Thor - 36 - Sky-blue Tastes Good

Hello, my darling boy.  I've been a bit wobbly this week, tired and heartsore even more than I was before. Sorrow seems to keep finding new depths for me to explore. Yesterday, I simply had to get out of the house and go for a walk in the woods. The big sky and fresh air beckoned me to seek solace and peace outdoors. My feet found their way to a pleasant hilly, yet gentle, wooded trail that is bordered by a friendly little creek. It was a mild sunny day which was full of the promise of spring. All of this was incongruous with my troubled and tired heart. As I set out, I shadowed by my own personal raincloud.  All week there had been weight laying on my chest that wouldn't allow me to breathe deeply, and a lump in my throat that I know is holding back a tidal wave of emotion. I realized that I've attempted to think my way out of and assert my will onto a recent unsettling experience, and in doing that I hadn't cried, like really cried, the tears that heal -- for days. 

Crying is good. It's crucial to allow the waves of grief to rise inside and overflow through my eyes. I pray for Grace, so I can accept and even lean into the pain. I learn to live with this sorrow woven into the fabric of my being. Tears and time are the best healing tonics.

So as I strolled along on my walk, I had a frank conversation with God. It went something like "What the fuck is this all about, anyhow?" "Did you really have to take my son?" "Were you trying to make a point? Lead me somewhere?" And then "Are you heartbroken and sorry for me losing my boy?" and "Did you mourn for your son's death like I mourn for mine?" "Do we share the sorrow of losing a child?" This was followed by, "Is all this suffering really necessary for us to want to come home to you?"

I came to a shrine overlooking the mountain range and river. There I sat and waited for an answer to be whispered on the wind. Birds flew by, and flowers bobbed their heads in the breeze. The sky blasted blue into the back of my eyes so deeply I swear I could taste it; sky-blue tastes good.

In this space where senses meld, an answer came. "Daughter, Peace is all there is. The changing nature of this world will cause suffering because you believe it is real, and you have expected it to bring you happiness.  Peace is the only thing that is real and changeless. This world and everything in it, anything conceived of by the mind, is an illusion. Suffering pushes us to look beyond the illusion to the deepest parts of your heart where you can see that All is One. Seek Peace - the Peace that Passeth Understanding. Live in Love. Be kind to yourself as you open your eyes and heal."

Well, that was certainly something! More than I was expecting and boy, I needed it. I was getting a tiny bit tired of not hearing back from The Big Guy after all the praying and talking to Him I'd been doing. The little black rain cloud that had been following me around began to lift, but it was not quite ready to go, all together. I paid my respects to God at the shrine and kept walking. The message ran through my mind. I turned it over and over like a pebble in my palm the subject of examination in the florescent lights of my analytical mind. Conclusion...somethings cannot be understood with the mind, they must be turned over to the heart. 

Eventually, I ended up at the scene of the accident. I've come to think of this place as the "Launching Pad," for it was here 11 weeks ago where you exhaled your last breath, where your heart stopped beating and where you launched into the Great Unknown. I sat in that same spot and looked around. The earth turned in her slumber, as the spring sun gently nudged her awake. The hard-packed clay, gravel and pine needles were rough to my skin and grounded my attention to that place. Right here, in this sacred spot, the tears came -- and they came for a long time. They are not the tears of lamentation, Thor. These tears are sorrow's purest expression and they have great healing power.

After a while, when I felt like I had expressed all that needed to be, I resumed my walk.  I noticed that I felt so much lighter. Even though crying had swelled my nose (I need to remember to carry more tissues with me when I walk!), I could breathe deeply. The lump in my throat and the bands around my ribs were relieved. I tipped my face up to the sun to let it dry the last of the tears from my face. I felt you with me at that moment - wrapped around me like a big hug, a delicious feeling of your presence holding me close. I will be okay; you're going to make sure of that, aren't you, Thor? I have to trust that sorrow knows the steps to this dance. My job is to follow and to keep my heart open, so I can hear the music, the song the Universe is singing.

Several people have asked me how I can be this strong. They want to know how I can bear to walk into the maw of grief with eyes and heart wide open like this. The thing is, I am doing it for you, Thor. This is still your story. Our story. And I am still your mom. Our relationship is changed, but not gone. It's not how I would have liked the script to go, but it is what it is. It's what we have in front of us. We are recovering from the shock of your death, everyone is; Dad, your brothers, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, and your Starr. We will never be the same because this loss is too deep, too big. It will scar us for life. But we are growing through the pain. We grow stronger and closer together each day.

I ran across a funny but deeply insightful video of a Rabbi talking about lobsters, of all things. He told a story of how these remarkable little crustaceans grow. Apparently, their shells do not grow with them, like our skin grows with us. Lobsters must first produce a shell into which they will grow. So, when a lobster begins to get too big for his shell, he feels enormous pressure and even great pain. His suffering drives him to seek a hidey-hole where he sheds his entire shell. He is rendered vulnerable and naked for a while until he can make himself a whole new shell. One that is bigger and has plenty of room to grow. The Rabbi went on to say that we humans can learn a thing or two from the humble lobster; without pain and suffering there is no growth, pain drives us to expand if we are willing to endure it. He went on to ruefully draw the connection to all the prescription and over the counter pain meds, recreational drugs, alcohol, extra-marital affairs, fighting, drama, etc… All these things we do to try to minimize, eradicate, distract ourselves from or simply NOT FEEL pain. And worse, we develop no capacity for empathy for others' pain.   

In the wake of your death, my world was shattered, but I am rebuilding consciously. Like a vulnerable, naked little lobster, I linger, protected, in this hidey-hole of our home. Angels surround and take such exquisite care of me. God sends them as helpers along this unavoidable journey.  Their love makes up the spiritual and emotional bandages that enwrap and sustain me body, mind, and soul while I heal - and grow a new shell. The new shell has room for developing tremendous empathy and compassion, Thor. In this way, I will be a living tribute to the beautiful soul that you are, which I was privileged to call "my son" for a short while here on earth.

I love you,

Mom