Grief is Love
It offers you an opportunity to
feel blessed to have loved so dearly
I stood in the family room this morning leaning against the wall with tears rolling down my cheeks and a heartfelt smile on my face.
My kittens were entertaining me with their mischievousness, Bobby was scaling the flyscreen whilst Elke watched him, as soon as he jumped down she pounced on his head. Knowing she was in trouble now, she ran quickly for cover under her climbing post only to be pulled out by her leg and her ear playfully nibbled on… I could watch this for hours.
My little fur babies have filled my heart with so much love and given my mind easy distraction.
The tears rolling down my cheek were remindful of the minutes before their playful interruption. When I was thinking about my stepson who left us five months ago now.
While my heartbroken husband is having another rough day, it pains me not to be hiding under his desk ready to embrace him when his heartache surfaces.
It is challenging knowing that a couple of our children have such heavy hearts but are burying it down, not ready to feel it. I am standing on the sidelines for when they’re ready. As are many.
But this week, the grief has hit me.
I have dreamt of Flynn every night for the past four nights. I drove down the beach on Sunday, in the pouring rain so I could just cry. I don’t feel comfortable doing this in my home. If no one else is upset, I don’t want to bring it to their awareness in that moment.
I try to keep it to myself when I think of all the things I wish I said those last days in Fiji to him, when he was reaching out, I tried to be kind and insightful, but knowing what I know now, I wish I did more.
The guilt I feel for moving Oska and Flynn to another row on the plane home because they were kicking sick Marli’s seat in front of us and stirring trouble wherever they could.
All things I cannot change. All things I did without the awareness of what was truly lingering in his heart and mind.
Beating yourself up is the most unhelpful thing you can do, but no human would ever lose someone and not reflect over their final moments with them. I forgive myself for not seeing it coming but I also can’t help but wish I did.
I also reflect on those special times too. The plane over to Fiji I was sat with Oska and Flynn and we laughed and joked the whole way, Glen was grimacing from across the plane as he watched me act like a teenager with them, sticking chewing gum in each other’s hair and laughing at a decibel that may be slightly disrespectful to other passengers. Poor Glen, left to be the sensible one.
I laugh as I think about eating lunch with Banjo, Hugo and Marli at the pool side restaurant when Flynn & Oska appear behind me saying panicked, “You better come quick” and led me to the balcony of their room where they had completely smashed the full sized window from trying to open a coconut by throwing it at the concrete when it bounced up and smashed the window to absolute pieces.
They were more scared of my Mothers reaction, given they were sharing a room with her than they were the hotels. They asked, “If we put the lounge in front do you think she will notice?”
Ah boys, the whole window was missing!
I was proud of them for going straight to reception and confessing their silliness and asking for a broom to begin to clean it. Of course, a broom wasn’t going to cut it, they had to change rooms.
There are many more crazy moments in time like these and quiet moments listening to music we both loved in the lounge while he explained how the sounds were made, the artists background and any other facts only a true musician would know.
We had our moments of not understanding each other and moments we did.
He was a complex and sensitive soul, which I guess I am too, but in very different ways.
I accept death. I accept the impermanence of all our blessings in life.
My first son Braith was gifted to me for 7 ½ months, I have no right nor would it serve me to believe I shouldn’t have experienced this loss.
I am grateful for loving him, it was my honour to Mother him and several months is better than having never known him.
Flynn was in my life for 7 years. It was also my honour to have shared some of his life with him. It was challenging, I won’t sugar coat reality. He challenged me greatly but I am so grateful for having him in my life. For learning from him and feeling him around us now, watching over us.
Although I accept, I still feel. And sometimes I feel sad. Sad for my broken hearted loved ones, sad for him and sad for me. I am ok with that.
Because through my sadness I come to a place like this, where I can cherish the small things like my kittens playing.
I come to a place through my sadness where I remember the good times too, where I can feel him around us and then my sadness turns into peace in my heart.
I will get sad again, maybe even before the day is out, but I will honour this knowing that “This too shall pass” this leads me to a humble place of embracing life for all it is and knowing how dam lucky I am for all my blessings in life… they’re not mine to keep.
Just mine to experience and lovingly let go when it is time.
To all those out there experiencing grief, I read a beautiful quote today by Jamie Anderson. In short it said, Grief is really just love. It is all the love you want to give but cannot.
For me, this means when you feel the grief, send it up to your loved one and share with them how much they meant to you and then send it out to those you love still here.
Have gratitude in your heart for all the love you have been honoured to experience. Connecting and loving is what this life is all about.
Biggest of love to you today