Rainbow Journey
The rainbow....
Yeah, the rainbow is that magical thing,
The thing that we want to transcend
Because of all it promises to deliver
Once we get to the other side of it,
If and when we do.
I have never forgotten a single rainbow--
Those spied as a kid at home or even in the old sod of Erin.
Rainbows give us hope and promise--
Something to cling to like a teddy bear at night
That says, "Everything is going to be alright."
They are like that hot cup of cocoa on a cold winter morning,
Or like the hug you so desperately need in your deepest abyss of grief.
Rainbows are what keep us afloat in the seas of uncertainty.
Rainbows are the bridge between strife and life
At its worst and its best.
A life unfulfilled and stuck
Looks to the rainbow for a shred of possibility
That maybe there is a brighter future,
A promise of something better.....
The path to a rainbow is part faith, part innocence, and part adventure
To get to the other side of that beautiful array of color,
You must open your heart and believe and never give up
Even though the terrain to the other side is steep and rugged.
The journey to the other side of the rainbow is long and hard.
The pot of gold is there waiting for you.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Wednesday, August 25, 2010
Twenty-Six Feathers
Twenty-Six Feathers
The phoenix rose up above me
Jerking herself in sudden flight.
I asked her, "What are you doing?
Where are you going?"
She said. "I am on a journey.
I have a lot to do."
I asked, "Where are you going?
What do you have to do?"
She was impatient and only said,
"I have things to do. You will see..."
I felt abandoned.
No answers. No help.
I always knew the Phoenix promised
A new life grown from the ashes of old.....
Every day I searched the ashes and rubble
For signs of life, signs of hope, signs of renewal.....
Suddenly a few feathers began to drop from the sky.
Those feathers were family and friends present in my deepest canyons of grief!
Time went on and I didn't find any feathers dropping my way,
Sure that my chance encounter with this mystical bird was a hoax or a hallucination.
New personal committments and a lot of hard work kept my mind off
Of any hope or expectations from the bird of fire.
Over time and through perserverance, many finish lines were crossed
Alone, yes alone with no expectations.
So often I would reflect, looking into the mirror,
Asking all of those questions and wonder,
What is the point? What is next?
Then a single feather droppped down upon my face.
It told me to look down, to look around.
I counted the feathers around my feet.
There were twenty-six feathers.
Each represented a person, an accomplishment, a victory.
She did not abandon me.
Her long flight had a purpose.
The bird said,
"Those were not my feathers, but yours.
Twenty-six feathers,
Each one for every one who loves you.
And one for every time you believed in yourself,
For courage, for strength, and for what you gave,
I gave back to you
For every year you had with your beloved."
Twenty-six feathers burn eternally
As a sign that I am renewed, alive, and live on.....
The phoenix rose up above me
Jerking herself in sudden flight.
I asked her, "What are you doing?
Where are you going?"
She said. "I am on a journey.
I have a lot to do."
I asked, "Where are you going?
What do you have to do?"
She was impatient and only said,
"I have things to do. You will see..."
I felt abandoned.
No answers. No help.
I always knew the Phoenix promised
A new life grown from the ashes of old.....
Every day I searched the ashes and rubble
For signs of life, signs of hope, signs of renewal.....
Suddenly a few feathers began to drop from the sky.
Those feathers were family and friends present in my deepest canyons of grief!
Time went on and I didn't find any feathers dropping my way,
Sure that my chance encounter with this mystical bird was a hoax or a hallucination.
New personal committments and a lot of hard work kept my mind off
Of any hope or expectations from the bird of fire.
Over time and through perserverance, many finish lines were crossed
Alone, yes alone with no expectations.
So often I would reflect, looking into the mirror,
Asking all of those questions and wonder,
What is the point? What is next?
Then a single feather droppped down upon my face.
It told me to look down, to look around.
I counted the feathers around my feet.
There were twenty-six feathers.
Each represented a person, an accomplishment, a victory.
She did not abandon me.
Her long flight had a purpose.
The bird said,
"Those were not my feathers, but yours.
Twenty-six feathers,
Each one for every one who loves you.
And one for every time you believed in yourself,
For courage, for strength, and for what you gave,
I gave back to you
For every year you had with your beloved."
Twenty-six feathers burn eternally
As a sign that I am renewed, alive, and live on.....
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Kindred Spirits and Unspoken Words
I walked into the room. Several tables were draped with crisp linen, with colorful summertime bouquets and lit candles atop. A large framed photo of a strong, strapping man along with several other smaller photos, his FAA inspector badge, his pilot log books, old newspaper clippings, models of airplanes, and a guestbook lined a long table. The big flat-screen television flashed photos that summed up a life that had ended unexpectedly. The widow turned my way, her eyes fixed upon mine. Her grief was new and raw. It was as if the rest of the world had temporarily stood still and frozen. We walked up to one another, our eyes and our embrace communicated more than any words could possibly say. I whispered, "I am so sorry." She said, "You know." "Yes," I replied, "I get it." Nothing more needed to be said, at least through spoken words.
Widows have a special connection. Some may say we are on the same page. Others will say we "get it." Those of us who are farther along in our grief journey understand the shock, disbelief, confusion, and pain all too well. We understand because we have lived it. We continue to live it. It is real to us. Those who have not lost a life partner cannot possibly fathom what it is like. They do not "get it." They can't. They haven't lived it. They haven't experienced it. The newly widowed are treading water in a vast ocean of uncertainty, fear, vulnerability, and gut-wrenching grief. They need someone who has been there to extend a hand that conveys understanding, comfort, and hope that will help pull them out of the depths of dispair, or at least help them remain afloat. And yes, those who haven't walked in our shoes can certainly be a source of love and support. But it is only those of us in exclusive membership of this loathsome club who can stand as living proof that survival is possible and real.
Almost two days later after the celebration of her late husband's life, I keep thinking about my colleague so freshly new to widowhood. I feel so much sadness for her. I know the days, months, and years ahead will be hard for her. I know she will miss the man she loved. I know the hard work that stands before her, the hard work of grief and redefining herself in this new chapter of her life.
Widows have a special connection. Some may say we are on the same page. Others will say we "get it." Those of us who are farther along in our grief journey understand the shock, disbelief, confusion, and pain all too well. We understand because we have lived it. We continue to live it. It is real to us. Those who have not lost a life partner cannot possibly fathom what it is like. They do not "get it." They can't. They haven't lived it. They haven't experienced it. The newly widowed are treading water in a vast ocean of uncertainty, fear, vulnerability, and gut-wrenching grief. They need someone who has been there to extend a hand that conveys understanding, comfort, and hope that will help pull them out of the depths of dispair, or at least help them remain afloat. And yes, those who haven't walked in our shoes can certainly be a source of love and support. But it is only those of us in exclusive membership of this loathsome club who can stand as living proof that survival is possible and real.
Almost two days later after the celebration of her late husband's life, I keep thinking about my colleague so freshly new to widowhood. I feel so much sadness for her. I know the days, months, and years ahead will be hard for her. I know she will miss the man she loved. I know the hard work that stands before her, the hard work of grief and redefining herself in this new chapter of her life.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
Trading Death Stories
In my previous life, pre-widowhood that is, I recall people talking about lost loved ones. Since childhood, my parents and friends would share stories about their parents and other relatives who had passed on. I remember these being opportunities to share with a trusted loved one, the emotionally laced memories of the dead. When my brother Tom died unexpectedly at the age of 31 in 1982, the reality and impact of a loss of a close family member hit home with me for the first time. It was a devastating loss for his wife, his children (one of whom was born the day after his death), his parents, his grandparents, extended family, friends, and me. It sent the family reeling into a sea of grief for a very long time. When I think back, I think it is safe to say it was most likely the most horrible experience for my sister-in-law and her three very young children. At the age of 23 and newly married, I was so clueless about widowhood at the time. All I could think in my young adult mind was losing a beloved brother who was to others a wonderful husband, father, son, and friend. I didn't get the gravity of the whole widow component and honestly felt very clumsy around the whole subject and my sister-in-law--now with a great deal of embarassment, shame, and regret. Looking back as a widow, I wish I could have and would have done more. However I know that it was impossible because of my own life experience at the time or lack thereof.
In the past few years several of my friends have shared with me about the deaths of their parents, some laid to rest years ago and some very recently. I listen but am thankfully clueless as I am fortunate to still have my parents in my life as I write this. It is uncertain whether or not I will ever know what it is to lose a parent, but the odds are I will some day. I haved experienced the deaths of my late husband's parents which had a very profound impact on our life as a married couple. My male and female friends have shared stories about their deceased parents with a great deal of emotion that is only given permission to make its appearance out of trust. Some have reflected upon the grueling long illnesses suffered by their parents. Some have shared experiences about their dead parents appearing to them in dreams to offer assurance of comfort. They have shared stories that are very emotional and detailed, including specifics around the illness that lead to death, the care they gave to the dying, the death itself, the aftermath, its impact on family dynamics, finances, etc. In particular I want to recognize my male friends for their stength in grief because in our culture males are not supposed to cry or show sadness. My grieving male friends are not afraid to share these deeply personal reflections, nor are they afraid to cry in my presence. In my book, male or female, strength is shown through courage to express thoughts, feelings, and emotions freely with those you trust.
Widowed for over three years, I can listen to other widows/ers and say, "I get it." I can listen with a heart and an ear of experience. Our exact circumstances may not be the same. We may differ on cause of spouse's death, gender, sexual orientation, age, having children or not, culture, socio-economic status, extended family dynamics, religion, and much more..... Being a widow also makes me much more in tune with those who have had losses other than that of a life partner. I think the key here is to not only listen with an ear, but also with a heart. None of us asked to lose a loved one. None of us was handed an instruction book. The common denominator in losing a loved one is that we did not have a choice in this major life-changing experience. The best we can hope for is to have someone else who is traveling this loss journey to listen and maybe trade a story with us. For me, the most comfort I have found on this grief journey is knowing that there are others who have experienced similar losses. Because of that, I know I am not alone and I can traverse the vast deserts and the steep mountains of the journey I never signed up for.
In the past few years several of my friends have shared with me about the deaths of their parents, some laid to rest years ago and some very recently. I listen but am thankfully clueless as I am fortunate to still have my parents in my life as I write this. It is uncertain whether or not I will ever know what it is to lose a parent, but the odds are I will some day. I haved experienced the deaths of my late husband's parents which had a very profound impact on our life as a married couple. My male and female friends have shared stories about their deceased parents with a great deal of emotion that is only given permission to make its appearance out of trust. Some have reflected upon the grueling long illnesses suffered by their parents. Some have shared experiences about their dead parents appearing to them in dreams to offer assurance of comfort. They have shared stories that are very emotional and detailed, including specifics around the illness that lead to death, the care they gave to the dying, the death itself, the aftermath, its impact on family dynamics, finances, etc. In particular I want to recognize my male friends for their stength in grief because in our culture males are not supposed to cry or show sadness. My grieving male friends are not afraid to share these deeply personal reflections, nor are they afraid to cry in my presence. In my book, male or female, strength is shown through courage to express thoughts, feelings, and emotions freely with those you trust.
Widowed for over three years, I can listen to other widows/ers and say, "I get it." I can listen with a heart and an ear of experience. Our exact circumstances may not be the same. We may differ on cause of spouse's death, gender, sexual orientation, age, having children or not, culture, socio-economic status, extended family dynamics, religion, and much more..... Being a widow also makes me much more in tune with those who have had losses other than that of a life partner. I think the key here is to not only listen with an ear, but also with a heart. None of us asked to lose a loved one. None of us was handed an instruction book. The common denominator in losing a loved one is that we did not have a choice in this major life-changing experience. The best we can hope for is to have someone else who is traveling this loss journey to listen and maybe trade a story with us. For me, the most comfort I have found on this grief journey is knowing that there are others who have experienced similar losses. Because of that, I know I am not alone and I can traverse the vast deserts and the steep mountains of the journey I never signed up for.
Daily Quote
"I awoke this morning with devout thanksgiving for my friends, the old and the new." ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
Thursday, August 19, 2010
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