Different sides
Babe,
In the morning, my body aches, and all I've done is open my eyes.
Why does grief do this? It's like death is mocking me for being alive.
Why is this kicking in now? It has been 4 months but I feel worse today than I ever have.
It hurts more.
I forget to breathe and then I can't catch my breath. It is too shallow. I think part of my oxygen supply died with you. Daily this week, it feels like I am on the verge of a panic attack.
My heart feels heavy, along with my shoulders and back. It's so heavy that I don't even try to carry the weight of it anymore. When it gets too much, I let it go. I cry where ever I am. Today that was sitting at a table at the City Library. I sat there and sobbed and it felt so good. Then I was able to move forward and be productive with my homework.
First thing in the morning yesterday, I could feel the weight. I decided to leave the kids home from church and I walked alone, hoping the walk would regulate my breathing. It didn't, but sobbing through sacrament did. I sat between the brick wall and Becky Apgood, solid support on both sides, and let it all out.
It was like being in labor. The emotions came and went just like contractions. Instead of fighting them I made room for them. We learned through our natural births it's absurd to fight labor pains, right? I guess it shouldn't be any different for mourning? I've never experienced anything more empowering than giving birth. My body knew what to do, I just needed to listen to it. There must be some parallels to death. My body knows what it needs to do to get through this. Remember the posters I put up in our bedroom to help me through the home births? I learned how to welcome contractions and re channel pain into progress.
Our minds are powerful. I wonder if grief holds similar empowerment? What would that look like?
Like labor, grief is a solitude experience. No one can get the job done for me. Sunday, my friends sat with me like you did each time I was in labor. They weren't trying to stop the pain. They sat with me while grief knocked the breath out of me every few minuets.
Labor pains bring life, and life brings death with a whole new set of pains. Your death is physically painful for me and I have to experience it in all the same ways as labor- alone, with an eternal perspective that it isn't going to kill me. My body knows what to do. Trust it. Breathe.
I've assisted 8 babies through the veil through labor. Once again, I labor to assist new life. This time for you returning full circle through the veil.
I read that grief and love are different sides of the same heart. I think life and death are also different sides of the same heart!
This side of my heart is equally heavy with grief as it is in love with you. I try to view it as a gift to hold you longer. Grief is a big paradox. I feel totally exposed yet completely safe. I feel heartbroken, but completely loved. I feel incomplete, but totally yours.
I'm learning to breath again, and in a new way. I'll keep this side of our heart alive and well while you care for the "other side."
I. LOVE. YOU.
🤟
Stay Close 😘
This is what I keep telling myself when I am overwhelmed with homework but consumed with grief and the only thing I accomplish in a day is lots of tears:
"I HAVE THE TIME. I CAN DO IT. I AM DOING IT. IT WILL GET DONE."
update: I came across this video after writing this and loved it.