Day 383

A very dear friend of my son, and now a very dear friend of mine travelled a long way to spend some time with me today. We talked about her, about him, their other friends and about how Mental Health was being talked about in the mainstream media much more than it has been ever before. As I sat opposite her for lunch, I wondered if he knew that we are together. For a few seconds I could sense his presence in the room. There was a subtle shift in energy. Was I imagining things? Was it wishful thinking or was it for real? Whatever it was, it felt good. Reassuring. Complete.

As I pack my things in preparation for a short break, I wish he would join me. Somehow. May be he is coming along but I cannot see him. May be in my suitcase right now. I don’t know. Well, I know that he is in my heart and goes everywhere with me. Love you my darling and miss you so much!

“We Dance Between Both Worlds

The death of someone we love
dearly
cracks us open.
Big time.
It’s supposed to.

It did me.

And for a time —
which varies from person-to-person
and can be a few days
or a week or two
or a month
or many months
or a year
or years
or the rest of our life —
some (many)
will dance between both worlds.

I do.

Do you?
Did you?
Are you still?
Dancing?

We dance between this world
and the next
when our beloved dies.
When she takes her last breath.
When he leaves his body.

We leave.
Too.
This physical plane.
For a time.
To be with them.
Where they are now.

And the dance begins.
Between both worlds.
Where all things are possible.

It’s during this time that it’s helpful
and healing
and so often frightening
to question everything.

Everything.

Because it’s all been cracked.
Open.

It no longer matters (really)
what your parents
your family
your teachers
your priests and ministers
and friends
believe.
What matters now is what you believe.

Because when someone you love
dearly
dies
you don’t know.
What you believe.
Anymore.
Not really.

About life
and
“and love
and meaning
and purpose
and why-was-I-born
and why-did-she-die
and could-I-have-saved-him?

And death.

You don’t really know what you believe about death anymore.
Because someone you love so much has gone and done it.
Died.
So you question everything you once held true
about death.
You question all the beliefs you’ve clung to
without ever having to really think about them.
To examine them.
To question them.
Until now.
You simply inhaled what was passed on to you.
Like the rest of us.

But not anymore.
You just can’t.

So you question.
Everything.
As I said
you’re supposed to.

Is there a God?
If there is
what is he/she/it/they?
And if there is a God
what did he/she/it/they have to do with the death
of this person I love?
So much.
And do we still exist after we die?
In some form or another?
And is there a heaven?
If there is
what is it and where is it?
And does everyone go there
or just some people?

And are they still aware of us?
Here on earth?
And if they are
can they communicate with us?
And we with them?

So many questions.
That need to be answered.
If your goal is to make peace.
With life.
With your life.

It’s important to dance back-and-forth
until all the questions are answered.
No matter how long it takes.

Ask and answer.
Ask and answer.
Until the answers that find you
create peace.
For you.

This will not be easy.
Because there are so many forces that want to pull you back.
Here.
To be just like them.
They want you to go back to the way you were.
Before.

But you’re different now.
Someone you love
dearly
has died.
And you’ve been cracked open.
Big time.

So you dance back and forth.
Between both worlds.”

Excerpt From: Zuba Tom. “Permission to Mourn: A New Way to Do Grief.”

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