Sunday was my goal for a second blog post. But it is now Monday, and I am past my deadline. My editor can be a hard ass, but I think she’ll understand considering the circumstances.
Battling with what to write about, I reviewed so many thoughts and ideas about quality of life, empathy, acceptance, tolerance, just to name a few. None are clicking. I promised myself that this would not turn into a “let me tell you about my grief, loss, and pain” blog.
Today I had the thought that struggling emotionally can be compared to being stuck in a blizzard or a hurricane. There is hunger, but I must use what is available to feed myself and those I love. Until the storm passes, I must simply use what I have. What is available in my emotional cupboard right now is mourning…sadness…sorrow. Pull up a chair and grab a plate.
I am truly struggling this week. Rick and I both are. When will seeing strawberries, the Celtics logo, or Casey’s number in our phone contacts no longer bring us to tears? We wonder when it will get better; when the pain won’t feel so deep and raw…and yet we fear that same moment when the sting will subside. Will it define a moment of obtaining some relief from our loss? Or does it signify a movement of Casey’s memory further into our past? For now, we make it through a moment at a time.
In the book The Prophet, by Khalil Gibran, the following passage offers thoughts about the relationship between sorrow and joy:
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight. Some of you say, “Joy is greater than sorrow,” and others say, “Nay, sorrow is the greater.” But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
I know this to be true.
The picture you see at the beginning of this blog post is from Casey’s viewing. This was taken at the end, by me, as Casey’s siblings and partners still in attendance, were all saying goodbye to his earthly body for the last time. This picture captures the saddest, most difficult moment we have faced as a family; that most of us have faced as individuals.
But, look closely.
There is an undeniable aura of unconditional love and profound joy for the connection they share with each other, and will share eternally with their fallen brother. As tenacious dandelions make their way through the cracks in the asphalt, abounding love and joy will blossom from immeasurable loss.
I smiled wide as I took this photo and then began to sob. Rick came up beside me, gently put his arm around my shoulders, and we cried blended tears of joy and sorrow, together. Truly we wept for that which has been our delight; that which will remain our delight.
Love always wins. And so, it goes…