As some of you know, my beloved mother made her transition from this life last month. I cried for days. At the moment she left, I sobbed and called out for her like a small child, "Mamma! Mamma, Mamma." But she was gone; her Earthly life was over and mine was now changed, permanently. I felt orphaned, abandoned and heartbroken.
Even though I know with certainty, that there is an experience beyond this life, because I have personally encountered evidence which I shall share in future posts, I could not quell my tears. In that instant, my grief was too expansive. In the vulnerable hours and days that followed, I collided with people; irritating platitudes fell from their mouths. While they meant well, I recognized they did not know what to say or had no real experience with deep grief. Either because they had not yet lost someone so dear to them or because they simply had never allowed themselves to go down into the place in our human experience of brokenness from which we fear, that if we do, we may never emerge.
In spite of our fear, it is the very thing we must do. Step into the loss, feel the pain, know the complete disorientation of having a person we love suddenly ripped from our life. Even though I knew my mother would die, as is the nature of all things on Earth, I still wanted another day, another hour, just to hold her hand, look into her eyes, and hear her sweet voice. Just one more minute. In wanting that one more minute, I ached and suffered and sobbed until I eventually bottomed out. It seemed as if I had cried all the tears my body could possibly create, and then there was the strange stillness of concession and release.
Finally being able to reach that place, allowed my healing to begin. So why, even if I know there is experience beyond this life, did I need to cry and grieve so much? This is our human condition. The depth and magnitude of my grief is perhaps a mirror of the love. I wouldn't miss it. I will not run from it. I will accept and honor the deep grief as a kind of payment for the great love that I received, which can only be known as part of this human experience.