I don’t hate death.
I don’t get lost in the idea that things must end to be recreated and transformed and made into something new.
What I hate is staring my beloved in the eye and feeling her terror and her pain and knowing that her story will end one day and subsequently a large painful hole, that has already began to fissure, will open up and swallow me.
That darkness is in humane to me.
My community has been experiencing an unprecedented amount of loss this year. Most of us are struggling hard to be strong in the face extreme adversity. I for one have used every tool in my tool box to dull the pain of this world. I’ve called ancestor, prayed, painted, basked in beauty, been silent, been connected, loved, drank, napped.
But still sometimes it’s unbearable.
I know why people turn icy and angry. It is hard to feel in these times. And our culture has been cleansed of the practices and containers to hold our grief.
I look around at those who have lost big. Lost whole parts of themselves. Those who bare tragedy day after day, and I understand that the practice of enduring is a torture that each of us will have to experience at some points in our lives.
And we will bare it.
I don’t think anyone can do anything to remove the horror of it all. The hope I carry is that with time you learn to breathe with the ache. Build around the ache. And find some solace in knowing that others have and found happiness again on the other side.
Grief support: https://www.refugeingrief.com/
Terrible thanks for asking: https://www.apmpodcasts.org/ttfa/