A Decade and an Open Box

        Here we go again.  This week, another personal topic for me, which I hope not to drop on your foot.  If I do, you'll have my sincerest apologies.  As I've said before, I feel that it is important for others to know that they are not alone in their experiences, even if ours are not the same.  We are all made better through being empathic, together.  And hence, we have the PB Project.

        Perhaps I should warn you, this post is about grief, and includes some details of things I have experienced.  If you are struggling with your own, I can only say that it may or may not be a comfort to you.  If not, again, you'll have my apologies, as I would never want to cause hurt; in fact, I hope to help in some way, as always.  You certainly have my empathy.

        I tend to be one of those people who take big, typically painful emotions, crush them down into a box, then close the box, only to take them out in little "bites" when I am capable of doing so.  Typically, this happens around the day or anniversary during which the circumstances happened; I pull out a piece, examine it carefully, chew on it a bit, and then when the anniversary is passed, I place it into the box, close it up once again, and put it away, until the next time.  I've been told this is a relatively healthy, if incredibly slow way to process things like grief.  Whether it is or not, it is how I have learned to cope with the number of griefs I've carried in my lifetime, from the time I was a child, and perhaps I have grown stronger through their combined weight, and through learning better what to keep, and what to let go.

        It just so happens that May is one of those times when I've collected a number of such moments, so I am more careful to be mindful of how I'm doing and feeling.  This year, I'm finding that a number of my griefs are starting to heal, in that I'm not being as affected as I have in the past, at least by those losses, in particular.

        For example, this year is the 10-year anniversary of the death of my mother.  There are some days, in particular, in which I feel the effect of that loss the most.  I'll spare you the gory details, but they all occurred the two weeks surrounding Mother's Day in the States, that year.  That means this post is in between them.  I suppose in some ways, it's good that they were all clumped together, like that, because it gives me a while to process them in batches, rather than the occasional bites of other situations.

We all grieve in our own way, 

and most of us don't easily let go of those

we have loved, and lost.

        It just so happens that for me and my mother, we had been apart since my parents divorced, just days after my 12th birthday, and so in some ways, I had already grieved losing her, because she was pretty much out of my life, from then on, for a variety of reasons.  But in other ways, her death opened wounds of the past, as well as introduced me to details of why she ended up the way she was, and how I had fit into the story of her life.  These details shook the very foundation of everything I thought I knew about my mother, my father, other people involved in that story, and myself, too!

        Each year that passes, whether during these anniversaries or not, I seem to learn new facts about her, or about myself in relation to her, and so I continue to try to be mindful, caring, and compassionate with myself, as I continue to heal.  This year, I find I am no longer as angry as I was, and I'm able to allow myself to feel the loss of her, more clearly.  I can see things with greater clarity, and examine the situation with more objective eyes.  And as I age, I am finding her more in myself, looking in the mirror, or sometimes in my voice, or in my various attitudes; I happen to love finding those little pieces of herself, she unwittingly gave to me.

        My friends, I guess I'm just trying to tell you that this stuff happens, and it's okay.  If we love, we will have loss, and loving is in our DNA... humans are "wired" to be communal creatures, connecting and loving and continuing the species through that, nurturing and protecting each other, and other creatures, from the elements of nature and all that comes with it.

        And there is always this wise counsel:

Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.

~ Dr. Seuss

        Before you roll your eyes at me, consider it for a moment.  All the grief we have ever had came because we loved someone or something, in some way.  In my lifetime, I have gone through some hellish griefs, not just through deaths, but through losses and endings of myriad kinds; but in that is reflection of just how amazingly powerful those wonderful people and experiences affected me!  I am able to say that I have loved in life with fervor, depth, and great meaning, and that the changes in me that happened because of those circumstances were so great, that the endings of them caused hurts, ranging from pangs of conclusion, to gaping chasms of loss, disorientation and even despair!  Even the loss of my health reflects a deep gratitude for having had it in the first place!  I now treasure what I have, in this moment, because I don't know how long I'll have it "this good".

        That might sound melodramatic to some of you, but anyone who has endured that sort of thing, knows exactly what I mean.  Which is why I extend my hand to you, to try to show you that you are not alone, if you do.  It's so much easier, when we know we aren't going it alone!  And again, that is the entire premise of the PB Project.  Because it's good to belong somewhere.

. . .

        As I write this, I can't help but wonder, Am I going to actually end up posting this? I don't know. I might end up just sharing another post from the archives on the PB Project Community Facebook Page this week, for all I know.  I may just get a burst of courage and post it, anyway.  This is one of those times when courage meets weakness, and strength meets cowardice.  But if I do, please know it is because I care enough about you, that I feel like it needs to be shared, even if only one person needs to read it.  That's pretty much always why it happens.  Weakness and cowardice meet the strength and courage which love gives.  We'll see, if you actually end up reading this!

        Better days ahead, my friends!