A friend of mine sent me this poem saying that it reminded her of me... I am a little hesitant about being called a survivor. I am still learning to live. I am still trying to figure out what my life looks like without them. I am still trying to figure out how my life looks with my new blessings.
How We Survive Sometimes, if we are
fortunate, we are given a
warning. If not, there is only the
sudden horror, the wrench of being
torn apart; of being reminded that nothing is
permanent, not even the ones
we love, the ones our lives
revolve around. Life is a fragile
affair. We are all dancing on the edge of a
precipice, a dizzying cliff so
high we can’t see the
bottom. One by one, we lose those we
love most into the dark
ravine. So we must cherish
them without
reservation. Now. Today. This minute. We will lose them or they will lose us
someday. This is certain. There is no time
for bickering. And their loss will leave a great pit in our
hearts; a pit we struggle
to avoid
during the day and fall into at
night. Some, unable to accept
this loss, unable to determine
the worth of life
without them, jump into that
black pit spiritually or
physically hoping to find them
there. And some survive the shock, the denial, the horror, the bargaining, the barren, empty
aching, the unanswered
prayers, the sleepless
nights when their breath
is crushed under the weight of
silence and all that it
means. Somehow, some
survive all that and, like a flower
opening after a storm, they slowly begin
to remember the one they lost in a different way…
The laughter, the irrepressible
spirit, the generous heart,
the way their smile
made them feel, the encouragement
they gave even as their own
dreams were dying. And in time, they
fill the pit with other memories
the only memories
that really matter. We will still cry. We will always cry.
But with loving
reflection more than hopeless
longing. And that is how we
survive. That is how the
story should end. That is how they would
want it to be.
This poem was written by Mark Rickerby (www.markrickerby.com)
I was honored that she thought about me and the sentiment is something I want to file away till later. But, I had to fight back tears and I am tired of being so vulnerable. It was with that thought that I ventured downstairs. My animals often know exactly how to make me smile at the exact moment that I need to smile. The kittens were playing with a ping pong ball in the dining room and the older cats were standing in the doorway watching them, keeping everything in bounds. I stopped on the stairs and watched for a bit. Have I forgotten how to play?
I am working very hard to do the things that make me healthy... I knit... I pray... I diet... I write... I take medication... Perhaps I should add play to the list.
Today's Meditation: The influence of a beautiful, helpful, hopeful character is contagious, and may revolutionize a whole town. ~~Eleanor H. Porter
