Hold on

 

Hold on to what is good, even if it is a handful of dirt.

Hold on to what you believe, even if it is a tree that stands by itself.

 

Hold on to what you must do, even if it is a long way from here.

 

Hold on to life, even if it is better to let go.

 

Hold on to my hand, even if I have gone away from you.

Pueblo blessing

 

All of us who mourn are at different stages of our grief. And sometimes those who are newly mourning look to those of us who have trod this path longer for advice.

 

I was speaking with a friend a while ago whose husband had died relatively recently. She asked me "Does this get better?" I couldn't lie to her. I told her "No, I can't say it gets better. But it does get easier."

 

I say this because my 16 years of grief have taught me that. Grief ebbs and flows. New losses bring back feelings of old losses. And so does a memory. A song. A cup. A picture. 

 

Anything.

 

According to the "experts" [who the heck are they anyway?], we should be "over" this, no?

The answer? NO!

 

I am saying all this because I want to tell anyone who is thinking they are doing this mourning thing wrong and that they should be "better" to give yourself a break. Grief never really ends. But luckily, love never ends too.

 

Hence, the title of this blog. "I'm Still Here" serves two purposes - yes, it means we are still here but it also means the person or persons we love and have lost are still here, too. I like to think of them as just around the corner, vibrating at a dimension we can't perceive in our physical form. But that doesn't mean they don't still exist. We see and hear only a very narrow band of frequency. Other species see and hear far more than we do. Maybe when your dog cocks his head and stares at a corner of the room he is seeing or hearing something you can't. Doesn't mean it doesn't exist. It does for him.

 

Is this nonsense? Am I just trying to make myself feel better? I don't know. But I do know that I feel John close to me. I get messages that can't be discarded as mere coincidences. Does that mean I am clinging to the past and not moving forward with my life? No, it's the exact opposite. It gives me hope and strength to continue on. And my prayer is that by example, I can help you do the same.

 

My plan is to finish this cup of coffee and go meditate and then connect with John and feel his love. We're all here to help each other. To reassure ourselves that we are not alone. We have each other and we have the love of those who have gone to the next dimension - our spouses, our friends, our parents, our children, our pets.

 

It's ok to be sad. And it's okay to not be okay. There are days when I am definitely not okay and admitting that is hard. I am usually the one who is there for everyone else. But I know I will be ok again. And that helps me put one foot in front of the other. It helps me get out of bed in the morning. Feed the cats and dogs. Read a book. Have lunch with a friend. Paint another painting. 

 

In the meantime, I will feel these feelings even though they're not good feelings. And I will search for the love that I know is there. I encourage you to do the same in whatever way you can. 

 

Just for today.

 

Namaste.