I tell myself this story: "I have suffered a lot of loss in the last nine months." Loss. Suffered. Me. I say, "I lost my grandmother, my stepfather, my grandfather." I lost them - but what does that mean? Where are they? And from where to where have they gone? They are not missing - in fact, they are more present, here and now, in my consciousness than they were when I could hold their hands and kiss their cheeks. "Loss" connotes heaviness. Despair. Grief. Sorrow. There's a hole right in the middle of the word l-o-s-s. The truth of the matter is that three people I love dearly left their physical bodies. Left the earth on which I walk.
But strangely, what I sense is that Gram, Chuck, and Pop have settled into a surprising place - into the pulse of my own beating heart. It's like they've been sewn into the fabric of my being, in a way that I never experienced before. Or... more likely, never noticed before. They are in my aliveness, in the movements of my limbs through space, …in my stride.
Chuck is in the curl of my smile, ~ in my gaze. He's witnessing the world through my eyes, experiencing - with me, the first burst of sunshine over the mountains. His feet plunge, with mine, into the cool sand on a late summer day.
Gram. Gram's warmth and gentleness encircles every person I embrace. These arms are her arms, her hands, mine.
And Pop. Stoic. Quiet. Wise. Always enjoying his second and third helpings... he knows, and I know, that too much of a good thing is wonderful.
When I sit, I sit with them. When I nourish me, I feed them too.
Maybe they're not lost at all, but rather, resting inside of me. I no longer step into my car and travel two hours to be with them, but rather, step inside of myself.
A hole? Or a whole? As in wholeness, full circle...Yes, that feels right.
Not lost... but very much H E> R E. Home.
In Loving Memory: