Sad Spring This Summer

I have been silent and in deep grief. I hit a wall sometime in June and basically stopped most of my movement and drive toward business, and began realizing the trauma and magnitude of loss that I experienced and am thawing to. I slowed way down. My time spent on being mom,finishing projects (slowly), going on summer outings with Kanyon, and the welcomed roller coaster distractions of dating. 

August has been extremely difficult as it has been a mile marker for many dates, from the day Darol showed me his lump- the 15th, to the day we received the crushing diagnosis, the 28th- that has forever changed our world. I am in huge disbelief that it has been a year since we walked out of that hospital with hope for healing in our hearts. I never thought I would be where I am today. I feel like it is all still so fresh, like time just stopped for me, and I am just catching up with harsh whiplash from it all. I was told back in February that I was doing very well and that I was in shock and not to be surprised when the devastation hit in a few months.
I thought at the time those were well meaning words and that this did not have to be my experience. Truth, this was indeed my experience and I am thankful to the words given so that at least I didn't feel like I was completely mad. The devastation did hit me and it hit me hard. No doubt I am still going through it. Although, Sunday, after an appointment with my healer/massage therapist, I feel as if the depression cloud has drifted off and a small ray of light that holds my natural joy has begun to softly sing in the distance.

Depression, devastation, lost, not caring about much except for Kanyon, and an overall dark cloud, that I wasn't able to shake despite my best attempts at all my positive bag of tricks. All the fun outings and trips to lakes, or time with friends, were enjoyable to a degree, but it has been tainted with sadness, and a degree of separation, nothing being as sweet, even food not tasting as fun, and a large fear mounted daily that my joy would never return. I wondered if a part of me died with him and that this is just how life would be now, which wasn't leaving me much incentive to want to stay it out. Thank God for Kanyon, he has brought so much joy into every day and it would be much easier to check out without him.

The good news is- I feel less bad today and a glimmer of light is still in me somewhere, I just know it. I actually got inspired by an article I read the other day about Toms shoes, and the owner who founded the company. Feeling inspired, even a little at this time is big for me. Dreaming, goal planning, moving forward, taking action, and being pretty clear about my path and purpose seemed to disappear. Since the path and foundation which I was building and co-creating with my lover in all my dreams is now deduced to me, I feel I am at ground Zero and I now is the time to get clear on what the rebuilding will look like.

For now my plan is to take the time I need to be with myself and Kanyon through our grieving, and focus on finding my passion and purpose, allow it to bubble up in the most organic natural way possible, and when I am inspired and on fire with it then take action. Until then I am being the best way I know how.

The other day after a bath I put on a special T-shirt of Darol's, one that he got the weekend we became an "US" on Canon Beach, I would rub the starfish patch logo flirtatiously, since it resided over his nipple, and tease him that it would glow if I rubbed it long enough. He wore that shirt often and expected me to rub it every time. When Kanyon saw me putting on his Daddy's shirt he got so excited, jumping up and down said, " I need Dad's shirt, I need wear my Dad's shirt too."  "You do, hu?" as I opened the doors wider,  "U, hu." he answered, still jumping. "Which one?" He picked a bright colorful Hawaiian shirt. It was so cute. He put it on and I buttoned it for him, and mind you, it was the only thing he was wearing, since we just got out of the bath. He ran around the house with a joyful squeal and a glee all over his face.  Yes, this did bring me joy.

Yesterday while walking I met an couple out tending their yard in my neighborhood; I had met them briefly before. We had a bit of a chat and they shared with me that they had lived in their home for 30 years and they had been married for 60 years. They built their house together. The wife boasting about how her husband "built the house with his own hands", and he responded proudly that she was "the sewage digger".  The husband told me he was a "Yes, Dear." Man for 30 years of it. I asked him what he was for the other half and he replied, "Ok. I'll do it."
 That reminded me of Darol in the way he would always say, "It's all about you Love." I shared with them how truly envious I was of what they have, and of my loss. I of course dreamed of growing old with him and building a house together. We ended our conversation on me saying, "Enjoy your time together, it's truly a precious thing." Our time here with the ones we love is a very precious thing.

Last night I dreamed of Darol, and for the first time since his passing, I was able to touch him in my dream. I sat on his lap and kissed him, it was wonderful to be held by him again, to kiss him and hug him. He said nothing, I said nothing. He even rubbed my feet, what a treat that was, I miss that so much! He rubbed my feet like nobody else can. In my dream I knew he was not alive and that it was simply a visit.

Tonight Kanyon and I watched videos of  Darol on my computer. I had not done that for a long time and seeing Darol again, was wonderful, and bittersweet. I held Kanyon and we went from video to video, he enjoyed it, asking for more. I was surprised that I was not crying. Kanyon after a while got sad and turned his face into my chest with a frown and tears in his eyes. I held him and opened the space, letting him know with a whisper, " it's ok to cry, I miss him too."  After a few minutes of that, when Kanyon had shifted, then my tears came.

I have been experiencing many rainbows this summer, and much rain and tears. Every time I see a rainbow now it seems more significant, since usually I tend to cry with the rain, it reminds me that joy will be mine again.

I read a blog entry by Leonie Wolff, who does a workshop, Passionate Sadness: Living Through and Thriving Beyond The Death of Your Life Partner, and felt her entry about Dancing With Grief to be wonderfully descriptive. She asks the question, "What is the dance like today?"

"I seek the understanding of the question: What is the dance today? Fast, slow, wild, quiet? Is it a dance of inertia or a dance of chaos? In the dance, I feel the rhythm… The pace… First I yield and allow myself to be lead… Then when it feels right… I take the lead. In contra dancing (my passion) there is a move called a ‘gypsy’ where you look deeply into the eyes of your partner and dance around in a circle… Allowing the energy to pull you both into a powerful swing. I gypsy with the Grief Monster and choose the moment of… Contact. And surrender to the dance. Grief can not be ignored, fought, finished, processed, analyzed or gone around… It must be gone through.
Grief has no ‘closure’…. Closure is a myth. As there are no ‘stages’.  Grief remains an ever present shadow… A shadow that I will not be engulfed by… But I also do not deny."-Leonie Wolff