I finished my book 'Grieving With Honour' several months ago, but no matter how much I talked myself into proofreading it or following up on what needed to be done, it lay untouched on the shelf gathering dust. I alternated between being upset and frustrated with myself and just plain angry. Nothing I could do or say would make me move over, pick it up and start looking it over.
I now realise there was a chapter missing from it - the last chapter that will bring me to a better sense of closure..
It all started with a comment my daughter made the other day. I was telling her how lost and sad I felt, even though I was surrounded by those who loved me. I admitted that I was crying a lot, big sad sobs that sometimes threatened to engulf me. I spoke about huge tears that rolled down my face unbidden and how I thought I'd be feeling different about my grief by now.
After telling me how far I'd come in the past four years, she turned to me and said 'It makes me feel helpless and sad, knowing I can't 'fix' you Mum.'
A couple of days later, as that thought was processed in the 'think mill' I have working around the clock, I came to the realisation that she was right. She couldn't 'fix' me. No one could...only I have the power to do that.
It was as if someone turned on the light and shook me awake. I woke up feeling different that day, as if I'd discovered the secret to my life, and I guess in a way I have.
I accepted a long time ago that Butch was never going to be here physically again. (I may not like it, but I can accept it) I accepted that my life will never be the same. I even accepted there is a definite chance I will never get over losing him, or being as free and joyful as I once was.....bu I never accepted 'My Grief'. Instead I tucked it away for moments when I was alone, for times when I could mourn in private, because that is how I deal with my sadness and pain.
I never accepted that it was truly okay for me to feel this way. I know I said I did, but there was a part of me that resisted for the past four years, two months and six days. I accepted it 'on behalf of others', as in I was going to do it my way and their opinion didn't matter. I accepted it in a physical, emotional and spiritual sense, but this tiny pocket of me, tucked behind everything else, in the far corner, at the very back hadn't agreed or accepted at all.
I can't explain the difference it made, this 'wake up call' I received, except that I am now stepping up and assuming my mantle of responsibility. I have been avoiding being a 'part' of my life in lots of little sneaky ways, that no one can visibly identify. I didn't want this new, unimproved and extremely sad life I was stuck with and I just coasted through my day to day life, just going through the motions.
My soul wept for the valuable time I was wasting. It cried that I wasn't honoring me and making the most of the time I have left here on this earthly plane. It sobbed when it knew I wasn't going to try and 'fix' this part of me and become whole again.....and that was when I had to sit up and take notice. I couldn't explain away the tears, I had to acknowledge what was behind them...
So now, its time for me to pick up the pieces, leave the prickly uncomfortable place that has been my comfort zone for the last four and a bit years and step out into the life I deserve. I'm not saying it will be easy, I just know I owe it to myself to not just be the best me I can be, but also to live the best life I can.
As much as my grief said I shouldn't be here without the love of my life, it isn't my truth and I have many things to accomplish before I join Butch on the etheric. I want him to be pleased and proud of me when we meet again.
..and you know what...? If there's even a chance I have to repeat my lesson of 'abandonment and grief' in the next life, I'd sooner have it done and dusted this time around, thanks.
love and hugs