Letting go again...

I read a lot - not simply fiction, but nonfiction. I started reading "Long, Strange, Trip" about the history of the grateful dead. I couldn't seem to finish the final 20 or so pages. This week I finished the book and realized my hesitation was not wanting to read about Jerry Garcia's death. After my trip to the coast last weekend, and releasing some of Glen's ashes, I was finally able to read the ending. I hadn't realized Garcia's ashes were released into the Pacific just off San Francisco. Funny how closure comes in unexpected places.

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Letting Go...

Yesterday I went to the coast with several friends. I brought along some of Glen's ashes to release. My little 5-year old friend has struggled with Glen's death. She was 3 when he died. They had a very special connection. She talks about his spirit visiting her and how much she misses him. At the beach I gave her some of his ashes. She happily flung these into the wind and water, laughing. She said he could swim away into the ocean. Saying goodbye is hard, no matter what age we are.

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Remembrance Garden...

Last summer I didn't spend many evenings meditating near Glen's Remembrance garden. I had the first year spent lots of time in the early evening eating my dinner and finding a sense of calm near the garden. This year, the third year of the garden, I again spend many evenings near the garden. The first year I wept, grief so new I doubted the grief would ever end. Last summer, year two, I was still doing, doing, doing - not much time for feeling. This year I sit and enjoy the incredible beauty of the garden.

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Moving forward again...

For the past several weeks I have been aware of how my grief process is never ending. How new or potential loss ignites my grief journey, moves be back in time, forces me to examine my grieving again, and again. I became depressed, unable to connect with my physical, emotional self - in that place of grieving where I am paralyzed. I can't move emotionally and become stuck in the uncomfortably numb space I dwelled in during Glen's illness when we did not know what lie ahead. Uncertainty - anticipating but not knowing what to expect. News from Mike's doctor that his thyroid cancer is back but confined to three lymph glands. Surgery to remove the cancer is possible; this released me to move again. Loss or potential loss will alway stay with me; but for now I move on in my journey.

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Waiting...

The pain from loss - this is what I fear most. Fear starts with the tests that uncover the terminal condition - cancer. Anticipating the loss stirs fear. The pain is physical, mental, emotional - a ripping to shreds, one piece at a time, kind of pain. I startle at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. The face staring back is the same sorrowful one I wore for months following Glen's cancer diagnosis and death. My sad eyes filled with deep pain. I see these same eyes now as my son Mike and I await the results of his PET scan.

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