Belated Reflections on June 17

June 17th is the birth day of a dear friend of mine. April 17th was the day of his death. I've see-sawed between the depths of sadness, and moments of joy. I've thought I was okay, only to burst into tears. I've spiraled down to the depths of a depression, and made my way back up to the surface.

At times I've treaded life's water until I was exhausted. I've had to make some pretty challenging decisions over the last half of the year, and there are still a few to make. And on June 17th, while mourning the absence of my friend, I discovered a rare and precious gift.

It was a day with the girls, and we spent most of it at the outlets. I knew it was going to be an interesting day when the reminder that it was R's birthday popped up on my screen, and I burst into tears.

It wasn't the first time I would shed a few. Cardinals (a bird my daughter told me would let us know that R was okay) were every where in the stores. I was late meeting up with the girls for lunch, as the sadness overwhelmed me. My appetite was not there, but I ate something to keep my blood sugar up, and we pressed on.

At dinner, I could feel it again. I was emotionally warn, and didn't want to burden the three lovely friends that were with me. When my dinner arrived, and it just wasn't very good, I closed my eyes and hoped they'd think I was just tired. But they new better.

When I returned from a bathroom break, they told me to sit down, and then, they did something amazing. They asked me what I needed. And when I told them I didn't know, they said that was okay, that they were there for me.

Eventually I confessed that I really wanted to be on the beach at night, standing in front of the waves, and honor my friend in some way. And so, we drove down the road a bit, hopped out of the car in the freezing cold, and trekked onto the sandy beach. We gathered together, sang songs, laughed, and huddled to stay warm.

And then, they asked me, what would I say to someone who was hurting as I was? What would I say to another? And I broke down. Because I have always been there for others, yet never really been there for me. And here, were 3 of my dearest friends encouraging me to nurture myself in ways that I've nurtured them. And all I could do was cry.

So there we stood, upon the shore, as I cried and they held me. And my one friend asked R to reach through her to me. (R practiced reiki.) And I know exactly the moment, because I felt the energy, and I felt my body relax as she held my hands. And it was one of the most powerful moments I've ever experienced.

Before we left, we stood watching the waves. I'd been enthralled by the waves since my arrival, and my friend C reminded me of this, and then asked me to think of what the word wave meant. And that maybe, just maybe, this was R's way of waving to me. I'd seen the cardinals. I'd shed the tears, and now, when I look at the waves, I can't help but wonder if he was waving to me.

I also wondered if R ever liked the beach. It would be a few days later when I discovered he used to work at a beach, selling umbrellas. Goosebumps, I tell you.

One thing is certain, I'll not look at them in the same way. And when I see waves, I now want to wave back. They say that salt water heals all things - via sweat, tears, and the sea. You know, I think there's something to that.

Today I remember...

A friend who was a part of our family, and so very dear and precious to us.

Today, I grieve because he is no longer with me physically.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fQ3wpjdYMqk

R - I miss you. I am so grateful for your presence in our lives, and to have been blessed by your friendship. You have been such a huge part of my children's lives, and my own.

My Grandmother's Table

My grandmother had a beautiful, oval-shaped, walnut dinning room table. For as long as I can remember, it hosted so many family memories and holidays. When my grandmother first moved into assisted living, she had to part with many of her things. I inherited her dinning room set. The beautiful table and cabinet, and the strange chairs. It was at least 30 years old.

The cabinet now hosts a plethora of our homeschooling supplies nicely organized and labeled. I've tacked up beautiful fabric from my MIL so that instead of displaying China, it houses an even more important part of our lives. Every time I look at it, I think of my grandmother, remembering all the things she used to store in it.

For 8 years it served as our dinning room table. It supported a great many feasts, tea parties, and more. This last year it's served as my office and homeschooling central. The chairs had strange netted backings, which Pook would poke her fingers through, pulling them out from the base. Two chairs have been in the basement for months, in need of tightening and new screws. And this year, when we moved the table to make room for our Christmas tree, the legs trembled.

As hubby laid underneath, tightening the screws, putting the legs back into place, we realized it was time to let it go. With a deep sigh, I called my brother, to see if he wanted it. He, like me, had no room for it. He told me that if I could find no one to take it, that instead of trashing it, I could bring it to his place, and we'd use it for a bonfire - a cremation of sorts.

We managed to find friends who will be taking the table. These friends are dear to my heart, and as they've no children to poke fingers through the chair backing, and the hubby is a Mr. FixIt, I think it shall be rather lovely in their new place. And I am so very grateful that it will have a good home for a while longer.

My grandmother died this past spring. Today, as I watched hubby and my FIL take it apart for storage in the basement until our friends pick it up, I was fondly reminded of all the years we sat and celebrated at that table. My heart ached as I felt the table's top, and watched them remove the leaf and the legs.

Now, I sit at a "new" table. It's stronger and sturdier. It's smaller and square. It belonged to my ILs. My MIL made cushions for the seats. The backs of the chairs are just right for learning against, offering wonderful support.

Right now, it's white with light wood. It's already changed the feel of the room. There's a new energy about. Pook wants to paint it black, and maybe we will.

On Thursday, this table will host a Christmas feast. New memories will be created. I've taken quite a liking to it. It feels very right, and will be the cause of revamping the dinning room to be more focused on homeschooling.

I'm hoping that it will be a part of our family for quite a while.

Attachments, Control, and trying to make sense of things

This morning has been challenging for me. I'm up, early, but my motivation is nil, and I find myself typing on this blog, perhaps trying to bring some sort of comfort to myself. As Tolle and Oprah would say, it's my ego. :)

And, maybe it is. But instead of denying, or running from these feelings, I'm just sort of allowing myself to feel them, instead of trying to control them. And, to be frank, they are not pleasant.

Lately, I have realized just how strongly I form attachments to things and how that is related to my desire to be in control. It seems lately, that every time I think I'm in control, the universe conspires to show me otherwise. Each time I think I've grasped some concept or belief that I think I'm sure of, good ol' universe steps in to show me otherwise. And then, there are those helpful suggestions telling me that I'm creating my reality, that on some subconscious or soul level, I've made the decision for things to go this way, and of course that all is happening as it should be.

Which, could well be the case. However, it's really not bringing me comfort, nor it is making me feel any better. Except for the "all is as it should be" part. That, I can take comfort in, although I'm not sure it I buy it completely.

To cope with feeling out of control, I seem to get this desire to get rid of everything. You know, go through and declutter the house. It's as though I want to simplify things as much as possible since the rest of my life is feeling rather chaotic. I haven't even been letting myself do that lately.

Last night, I wanted to throw it all away. I wanted to take down pictures, get rid of furniture, sell it all and live a minimalistic and monkish lifestyle. The thought of having another baby and making room for more stuff, seemed very stressful. (Remember, I am nesting right now on top of this... do you pity my sweet hubby yet?)

While working through the grief of my Grams and the mass amount of pregnancy hormones, which I feel is a large contributing factor as well as a few other things, my moods have been totally funky and I'm having trouble finding some sort of stabilization.

And really, right now, all I'd like is some stabilization, ensured life security, more than a few "good" days in a row, and to win the lotto or come into some large amount of money. ;) Perhaps, if I was creating my own reality, I could easily do this.

Right now, I'm taking things moment by moment, step by step, day by day. Some days are awesome, and I try to be fully present and enjoy them. I've also noticed a desire to hold on to these days. I don't want them to end, so I form an attachment to them. Then, when I have a day that's not so awesome, I tend to feel let down. If that makes sense.

Even though today isn't one of those awesome days, it's only 7 am. Things could change. I am realizing, that this grieving process is really taking me some places I never really wanted to go. I also realize, that maybe I need to go to these places, and become aware of these things.

How awesome would it be, to be able to enjoy the "good" and the "bad" days? How awesome would it be to just live my life without expectations or attachments?

I thought I had things all figured out. Really, I did. My life was set. I knew what I wanted to do, at least for the next few years, and that was that. And then, somewhere along the line, I realized that though I function as a mom and wife, I'm actually a person too, and I'm not sure what that means anymore.

So in some ways, I feel as though I've stepped out of the box I've planned for myself. (I've been very good at boxing myself in.) This provides me with a ton of freedom, possibilities and choices. (Yesterday, this was awesome. Today, it's rather overwhelming.) And, I'm a little scared of the not knowing, as freeing as I know it is.

Peeking out from the silence

On March 6th, my grandmother passed away. Though we knew it would come eventually, death still seems to sweep me from my feet. This time around, I found myself retreating to the inner, as opposed to reaching out. I did reach out in the beginning, but then, I felt like a shy hermit crab, and quickly retreated into my shell.

I have been treasuring those friends who understand and have respected this time, and the little messages they've sent to me to remind me that they are there for me if I need them. Each message has been taken to heart, and held close.

This week, I'm stepping out again - slowly, cautiously. It started yesterday with brief excursion to a Reiki shares. I know that I can not hide in my shell forever, and this week, the air doesn't seem as heavy and my throat does not feel as tight.

Step by step, I'll come out into the sunlight again, but for now, there is something so potent for me about closing off and shelling up. By turning inward, it has enabled me to take a good look at things I normally wouldn't. Perhaps, when I feel up to it, I'll explore that further here. But for now, I am content to just be, to just peek out here and there, to take my time and enjoy the silence.