The Cord

Loss is a strange thing. For a period of time the world loses color. Voices blur. The heart beats in your chest . A hollow bell. It hurts. Pain from the inside. Everything else is numb. Vision is a black and white kaleidoscope. A gray scrim.

A friend of mine just lost her son in a senseless accident. She lost her husband to a debilitating illness less than a year ago. Both tragic, unseemly, untimely.

So. Is this just random? Just s--t happens? Is there a reason? A purpose? Now seems the time to ask these questions because thinking about them all the time is too difficult. At least for me. So. Is there a lesson? Is there meaning? If this is our earth-school, do we need to learn about loss to appreciate the now?

My brother lost his son a few years ago. His mother almost didn’t recover. How could she? It doesn’t bear thinking about. By extension I think of my own son. My daughter. How much I miss them. How as a mother your heart never quite stops aching when you are not with your children. I think it was my own mother who said it was as if there is an invisible cord attaching heart to heart. Does that cord ever break? I think not. Certainly not with separation. Not even with loss.

I know there is something more. That’s all I know. So I’m sending comfort. Hoping that’s possible at this time. Sending.

Cutting to the Bone

Writing. Trying to start over. It’s painful. I’m not sure why. Fear of failure? Fear of success? (I highly doubt that). I move through the house trying to find things to do… and it’s not hard… bills, laundry, lists, lists of lists, organizing, straitening, cleaning (as little as possible of that), email, Facebook, reading, watching TV. What’s up with that by the way? I have never, I mean NEVER watched daytime TV. Okay, being honest here, I did watch General Hospital for a period in the ‘80’s. But with that one exception, never.  I’m sure there are a few worthy things on… but it’s just not me. It’s always seemed a waste of time… time that could be spent on other things… more productive things. So I must be really desperate not to write.

There was a time when truly critical life issues stopped my writing. Family illnesses… plural..and then personal health challenges. During that time I could have written about the experiences, but I was too overwhelmed. Getting through was my only goal.

So now I really have free time. It’s summer break and I’m not working outside the home. We are home from vacation. Everyone is well, knock on wood, spit over both shoulders. So, if I’m honest, I can do it. I’m looking at myself in the proverbial mirror and asking, “if not now, when?” 

That's the question.