Stillness

On the day Jim died, my Aunt Gladys, who had been widowed almost 10 years came and sat by my side. Through tears I asked her how she did it. How she kept going. How she kept breathing. She said to 'keep busy.' I knew right away that wasn't for me, but I accepted the wisdom her experience and her own grief journey had taught her.

In that first year, I fully gave myself to the grieving process. I cried. I cried a lot. I read and wrote. I walked on the beach, I took time off from work. I gave permission to do only what I could and not try to live to other people's expectations of me. I proudly showed off my new tattoo to my disapproving mother. I didn't care. It really was all about me.

As I approached the year anniversary. my grief counselor had warned me that people around me would start expecting me to move on with my life.  What I was unprepared for were my own expectations of myself. Somehow, I think I believed I needed to 'get on with it.' I started busying myself with projects. So much had been put on the back-burner since Jim's diagnosis, there was much to catch up on and repair. I found myself staying up later and later in front of NCIS marathons, just to avoid going to bed... quiet, alone, not wanting to face my tears.

Kiran Sidhu Aldridge writes about the 'dirty little secret' of the grieving. That the world is divided into two parts: there are the grievers and then there are those oblivious to the black hole left in one’s life when someone significant dies. I was trying to fill that hole with activity. Don't get me wrong, I was glad to be traveling a bit, visiting with friends, taking in a ball game. But deep down, that hole was still there. Reminding my of my new found companion, grief.

And so sometimes, I need to just stop. I need to say no. I need to sit in stillness and in silence. I just need to be. Be with my grief, be with my memories, be with joy, be with peace. Today's meditation was on the contentment we can find when we are still. When our core beliefs come from our true selves, when we believe that we are loving, lovable, worthy, safe and whole, there is power and opportunity for life that springs forth. And, as Deepak Chopra says,  If our beliefs are compromised and not having the effect we hoped for, then we need to return to the stillness of our true self to rectify the belief.

Yes, I miss Jim. I always will. That black hole will never be filled.  Like Sidhu Aldridge, I have chosen to examine the open wound of my grief and almost befriend it. It has visited and cast its shadow over my life. I can only live with it. I am open to what it has to teach me, that when those we love die, they leave holes in our lives that can never be filled. This doesn't mean I do not feel joy or love.  Indeed I do, and when I think about my life, I am content. I am indeed blessed. I loved and was loved enough to grieve deeply.

Yes, sometimes I just need to stop. In the stillness of silence, I am pure contentment.