There is this statue, one which I have seen floating around the internet to represent the feeling of losing someone close, such as child.
I have been thinking on this quite a bit, and I am not sure that is the word I would choose. I recognize my experience is different than others. My child was not tiny, not flawless, not helpless in the traditional sense of the word. My grief was not totally unexpected; it was a grief waiting to happen in the back of my head for some time. But how does one feel empty?
I am blessed to have other children and grandchildren and a life so busy, more busy than my introspective self would like at times.
I don't feel empty.
I feel guilt. Guilt rising like a tidal wave, threatening to drown the land around it, but then logic and reason and self-love and kindness, pushes back gently and firmly and wraps me in her arms.
I once read that nothing is ever as bad as we fear or as good as we expect. And I do believe that. We just steady ourselves and keep to the middle as much as we can and keep on going.
When reason starts to rant at the futility, I feel the presence of love surround me and I know whatever the reason for all this *everything around us*, existence, Universe, whatever it is, it isn't futile. There are shadows and mysteries and energies not yet understood and God is good to me.
So emptiness is not what I feel. I feel remorse. I feel embarrassment, I feel frustrated at brain chemicals which determine so much of our daily lives, but by gosh. Life is full.
I have been thinking on this quite a bit, and I am not sure that is the word I would choose. I recognize my experience is different than others. My child was not tiny, not flawless, not helpless in the traditional sense of the word. My grief was not totally unexpected; it was a grief waiting to happen in the back of my head for some time. But how does one feel empty?
I am blessed to have other children and grandchildren and a life so busy, more busy than my introspective self would like at times.
I don't feel empty.
I feel guilt. Guilt rising like a tidal wave, threatening to drown the land around it, but then logic and reason and self-love and kindness, pushes back gently and firmly and wraps me in her arms.
I once read that nothing is ever as bad as we fear or as good as we expect. And I do believe that. We just steady ourselves and keep to the middle as much as we can and keep on going.
When reason starts to rant at the futility, I feel the presence of love surround me and I know whatever the reason for all this *everything around us*, existence, Universe, whatever it is, it isn't futile. There are shadows and mysteries and energies not yet understood and God is good to me.
So emptiness is not what I feel. I feel remorse. I feel embarrassment, I feel frustrated at brain chemicals which determine so much of our daily lives, but by gosh. Life is full.
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