Verdant tinseled tower
of baubles and bling,
reflecting refracted light
over ornament infested mantlepiece
with stockings strung,
stuffed with nothingness
both before and after….
that has become a season
of frivilous retail frolicking.
Where shining lights
and constant carols
conceal customer concerns
and hide dark shadows.
Where bon homie and philanthropy
compete with bah humbug and misanthropy
among those for whom xmas isn’t always merry.
I have had grief described to me in many ways, and none of them have ever really described what it has felt like to me since losing Samuel. I’ve been searching for a metaphor that would adequately describe my experience and how varied it is from day to day.
After a lot of thought, the constant motion of waves against a rugged coast, and the actions of a blowhole are the closest I can come to describing my experience of grief.
The waves vary in size, sometimes they are a gentle swell rolling and sometimes they bring crashing waves, washing up against the rugged coast of my consciousness. Like a rugged coast my consciousness is full of cracks and crevices through which the the waves pulse and withdraw. Sometimes as they surge and pulse …. Woosh.. There it blows.. emotion erupts releasing the pressure and I feel like I simply need to collapse, like the column of water after the eruption of a blowhole.
Sometimes there is a rhythm to cycle of the emotional eruption, some days I know it’s coming, I anticipate it and I can sit and observe the rawness and feeling of loss and sadness, other times the eruption seems to come from nowhere and just like standing next to a blowhole unaware, I wind up drenched by the eruption.
As today marks two years since Samuel died, it is a day of expected emotion, and no doubt tears many times throughout the day. It is also a reflection on the passing of time. When Samuel was alive there were markers of time before and after his non-fatal drowning. We passed things like the point in time where he had been severely disabled for a quarter of the time that he had been our “normal” little man, then half the time, three quarters, equal time… and then.. well and then… it just was. Now that he is not here I find my mind watching that clock again…. two years.. almost as long as we had him “normal”.
Onwards time ticks,
its passing is stark.
Surging memories of moments sweet,
and moments ohh so dark.
Some dates are markers of time,
Defining our before, defining our after.
Through the pain we strive to remind,
ourselves of the moments of joy and of laughter.
That despite being apart,
with days sometimes flooded with tears
and the permanent cracks in our hearts
your memory will last all of our years.
10 August 2015… an anniversary…..
An anniversary is a Day that commemorates or celebrates a past event that occurred on the same date of the year as the initial event.
This one marks 25 years in my chosen career as a firefighter. 25 years… where did it go?
It is such a significant length of time. So much has happened across that 25 years, and it is with a heavy heart that I can reflect that 25 years represents almost two and a half lifetimes for the one hero in my life… Samuel..my little man, who will forever be 10… and how nothing can ever prepare you for such a loss.
It is also 25 years that has given my family and I a lot… friends, education, stability and a lot lot more.
At the 21 year mark I reflected on some of the lessons learned to that point, and they still hold, so I’ll repeat a few of them with some extras.
I have learned how fragile human life is.
I have learned how strong and resilient the human body can be, despite what people and circumstances can do to it.
I have learned how indestructible the human spirit can be. (and sadly learned how the seemingly indestructible spirits of some of the greatest people you meet can be broken).
I have learned that there is always someone willing to help (including when you find it hard to ask for help), and some one willing to watch your back, and how to reciprocate such loyalty and friendship.
I have learned that there is strength in unity.
I have learned that life and death is a matter of millimeters and moments… where each 1 millimeter or moment in one direction can save a live, and in the other cost a life.
I have learned….. that I have never finished learning…..and never want to.
What for the next 25?
In another 25 years it will not be a post about still working…. none of us know how long we have, in our jobs or in our lives. Very few people get to have careers like this…. but I am sure the next 25 years will have plenty of lessons in it as well.
There is only one way to describe it….. one of those days.
The sensation of weight, of carrying an invisible burden, the sensation of fatigue and of feeling somewhat sad, an occasional burst of what felt like a rising tide of emotion but overall difficult to describe, a sense of unease and not being able to put a finger on it… nothing but the option of going with it.
In part of an online retreat I watched recently, by Teah Strozer a Zen buddhist teacher, she perfectly described the problem with grief…
“Grief is a kind of pain when someone dies …. a person you love. When you lose somebody like that there’s a kind of a grieving that is not mental; no words are going on. The body just wells up in grief. It’s painful but it’s also very cleansing, very present, very human, comes with life”
It is not mental, there are no words going on….the body just wells up in grief!
I have talked about in how to sit with sadness. Simply watching my mind, and it is always useful to follow your own advice!. It was during this sitting and watching today that an instant recognition…. an AHA! moment occurred.. and I found the analogy for the pain of grief, or at least an analogy for how I experience it.
The similarity of a sensation that none of us want was instantly recognisable.. this may not be the most pleasant visual picture (, but please stick this out.. it will make sense)….reflect back to the last time you vomited…. .. Can you instantly recall and recognise that rising, swelling feeling.. the sudden rush of metallic taste in your mouth and the rapid flush of heat or shivering throughout your body… No matter what you do you cannot control the overwhelming sensation that blooms throughout your senses in the moments before you have no choice but to let go…
Sure you can feel sick before vomiting, but that moment always takes you by surprise..
It describes my sensation of grief when it catches me unaware… even on “one of those days” where you only describe it as feeling off.. the sensation of grief hits. It does have the physical sensations accompanying it… it has it own taste, a feel of welling up and overtaking you no matter how you try to control it, and it reaches a point where you just have to let go and let the tears flow. Where you can no longer grasp and grasp, but must simply let go. It is not an elegant way of describing this feeling, but it really is like an emotional vomit……
As crazy as it seems Teah’s words about it being painful but also cleansing and present feel so true. It is a relief to acknowledge and feel this sensation, to let go and recognise the pain for what it is … the body welling up with grief.
My recent posts have contained a poem… written by me… but not this post… One of the other things that Teah shared in that online retreat was a poem by Anita Barrows called Questo Muro..which Anita describes as being inspired by a section of Dante’s inferno, and it being a poem about finding the courage to persist… for me it was very much about leaning into the sensation.. as I suggested in how to sit with sadness…..
You will come at a turning of the trail
to a wall of flame
After the hard climb & the exhausted dreaming
you will come to a place where he
with whom you have walked this far
will stop will stand
beside you on the treacherous steep path
& stare as you shiver at the moving wall, the flame
that blocks your vision of what comes after.
And that one
who you thought would accompany you always,
who held your face
tenderly a little while in his hands—
who pressed the palms of his hands into drenched grass
& washed from your cheeks, the tear-tracks—
he is telling you now
that all that stands between you
& everything you have known since the beginning
is this: this wall. Between yourself
& the beloved, between yourself & your joy,
the riverbank swaying with wildflowers, the shaft
of sunlight on the rock, the song.
Will you pass through it now, will you let it consume
whatever solidness this is
you call your life, & send
you out, a tremor of heat,
a radiance, a changed
As I am posting this just days from Mother’s Day here in Australia, I want to acknowledge the pain and suffering of all the mothers who will be doing Mother’s day without one of their children with them. I will be thinking of you.
By the left…..
The sharp crack
of leather soles
One hundred and twenty
beats per minute.
Eyes left past
off of the buildings
lining the route
of the march.
firing off memories,
old and new,
camaraderie amidst chaos.
and explosive drum beat
combined to honour
those who serve
and those that died.
They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old. Age shall not weary them nor the years condemn. At the going down of the sun, and in the morning, we shall remember them.
Lest we Forget
100 years of ANZAC tradition as we celebrate the memories of all those who have paid the ultimate sacrifice for their country and comrades. Wherever you are, honour their memory on this special ANZAC day.