I’m always surprised when grief drops in. It seems a long time since crying was daily, and then it happens again.
When Grief Drops In
Today I’m sharing an experience of grief from this past week. It came out of nowhere. Well, not exactly. It started on a Zoom of fellow writers deeply connected to Spirit.
I had to leave before the end. So I let the moderator know. She asked me to share my experiences over the last seven years. First, I talked about my blog, but I needed to share that I’d gotten married. Next came the losses, my husband’s death in March and then the death of my mother soon after. That’s when I broke down and cried. There was no stopping the tears. And I felt safe to share, but I didn’t want to waste this precious time together. Quickly, I regained composure, finished my share, listened to another participant, and slipped away after leaving my goodbyes in the chat.
Of course, that wasn’t the end of this grief episode. The next day, I was thinking about a new project using my photos spanning many years. Again, the vision of my second husband, Pablo, became focused. I smiled, remembering him standing proudly at a marina, displaying a freshly caught Mahi Mahi. He was wearing a shirt I gave him that depicted the story of Hemingway’s Old Man and the Sea. This memory was so beautiful. It brought forth these words.
Keep your loved ones’ happiest moments with you always.
Next, I looked for my niece’s wedding photos from ten years ago. I had offloaded them from my phone to make space, but instead, I found my last husband, Wayne’s proudest hunting moment, was when he bagged an awarding winning Alaskan Brown Bear. It reminded me of how vibrant he was when we were first together as lovers.
I know you might feel judgment about this hunting experience. And no, Wayne didn’t eat the bear, but all the meat was harvested and given to local villagers. Taxidermists took the carcass and made a bear skin rug that filled the floor of a room in his Florida home. After Wayne passed, someone bought the bear. She’s out there, proudly displayed somewhere.
Sitting and Reflecting
All these memories continued to feed my soul as I pondered what these men brought me in my life.
Pablo and I enjoyed traveling with gusto. He was a vibrant man. I remember his love of people, dancing in the kitchen, and cooking his Cuban specialties. In comparison, the memories of our later years when his paranoia and depression took over are dim.
Just today, I thought about my favorite times with Wayne. He took me hunting in Georgia. Although I had only handled a rifle once in my life, I was a natural at hitting a target. However, shooting a deer did not fit into my life journey. But I tried for him. So, when I sat alone inside a portable blind in the early morning darkness, the stillness and brightening sky evoked my only waka, a Japanese style of poetry written by emperors of old. My waka…
orange fushia sunrise
birds chatter all around me
leaves rain down silent
lone buck grunt breaks the stillness
When grief drops in, I think it is crucial to let the tears flow when they come. But it’s also healthy to remember those sweet moments when you felt the love both received and given.