Our stories intertwine . . . overlap . . . run into each other, as we chase the dreams in our hearts; the longings of our souls.
As we share our stories, we find ourselves singing along to the same song; melodies of life and love; pain and suffering.
Words of truth reveal our shine and sparkle, and reflect that of others. I share my bits and pieces here, in hopes that others will recognize the shine within themselves, as the light reflects.
Thursday, August 28, 2014
I recently returned from a visit with family which included my mother, who has Huntington's Disease.
The first week back I was engulfed by a deep, heavy darkness.
Having a history of depression, my first thoughts are,
"Here I go again. What's wrong with me? How can I fix it (me)?"
A friend said, "I think you are grieving."
Maybe I'm 'normal'? Not needing to be fixed at all?
My mom isn't who she was. She won't be (in this life).
It's a special sort of sadness. This loss of what was; of who was.
The mind and body altered. Diminished.
A brilliant and beautiful mind fighting through a fog.
Striving to locate and hold onto thoughts.
Working to get the brain and voice to cooperate.
Oh, sweet, sweet mother of mine
I weep because you were beautiful
I weep because you seem even more beautiful now
Strength fighting through weakness
Tender expressions of love
Pure and simple.
No pretense (because there can be none)
Why does it hurt so much?
This is the gift.
This is the evidence of great blessing and deep beauty.
If there was nothing much to lose
The heart would not bleed.
How deeply blessed am I?
To have been loved so greatly
To love so greatly
I carry all of it;
All the grand adventures.
All the little day to day events that formed who I am.
Nothing is lost.
So, I smile into my tears.
This pain is the fruit of love and goodness
Seeds planted in me -
A million little bits of life
Sent roots deep
Sprouted and blossomed
(and blossom, still)
I hold you in my heart
With love and tenderness.
I cherish a love which cuts so deeply.
Spread from heart to heart
Generation to generation
I allow myself to grieve the loss
I hug to myself the pain which is also the love
and nurture the seeds of life and color and music and compassion
and silliness and wit and exploits extraordinaire . . .
and so much more
Thank you, thank you, thank you!
How trite is it, to end with the following quote?
Yet, it's true. Love is worth the pain. Is actually deepened and intensified by it. For pain reveals and is evidence of love.
'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.