Ironically, it is grief itself that will lead us towards life and living. We need to allow ourselves to be still, and sit in the "nothingness" where grief lives.
I have begun to realize that visiting this empty place is necessary. It is here that we will find the answers we seek. This is the place where we will find the blueprints of our Soul. We are re-born from the hollowness and aching within us. I hope my blog inspires you to lean into your pain. To feel it to it's depth. If you do this, I promise that you find your way towards a changed life.
Death creates an empty spot within us; and I have become increasingly drawn towards the ledge of this place because I believe this is where some of the answers are. I think it is here that we will learn to gracefully carry our grief so that we can live again. So, take a breathe, and come with me to the ledge. I know we will both be better for it.
I know you are scared to go to the edge; admittedly, I am too. The uncertainty that follows death is intimidating. But, we have to make ourselves even more uncomfortable. We have to venture from the ledge. I am going to take a leap of faith and build my wings on the way down. Please, come follow me.
Deep down, I know that I do not want to be "saved" from my fiance's death by anyone, but myself. I know that it is necessary for me to do this on my own. No one can rescue me. But, people like you can walk along side me as I navigate my way into a changed life. I am glad you are here with me as I write about moving towards the light. The light within me, and the light outside of me.
I am focused on change. And, I know that if I am going to find my way out of this mess I can not stay comfortable in my grief. I have to move. I have to become off kilter. As I write to you each week, I am becoming more aware of my feelings. I realize that what I fear most about the future is not the risks and uncertainty. What I am afraid of is letting the opportunities for change pass me by. I am scared of settling into an ordinary life when I want an extraordinary life.
It is my potential, my light, my ability to shine that frightens me. I am worried that I will play small, when my potential is big. As I write to you each week I am challenging us both not to shrink. I am keeping us accountable. I do not want either of us to fall back into an easy comfortableness when we can leap forward, towards a bold life. I want you to manifest the best in yourself. Go, create a beautiful life for yourself. I am not far behind you. We can not let life pass us by. Together, we've got this.
From the Ledge with Wings in Hand,
Life after the death of the person you love demands that you ask yourself BIG questions. Ironically, the questions are often about life and living. I have asked myself over and over again, Who am I now that Mike has died? Maybe part of the answer lies in Who I was before I met him. Who I was before he died. I think a lot about Who I was when I was Mike's fiancee. And, I ask myself again and again, Who I want to be now that I am his Widow.
Admittedly, these are questions to which I don't have the answers; but, I'm working on it. These questions challenge me and scare me because of their enormity and because I feel the potential here. I still have choices in my changed life. I have the opportunity to re-create myself, and you do too. I know how overwhelming this is; but I believe that if we allow ourselves to be off kilter we will find ourselves in the process.
In the last year, I have spent a fair bit of time on my knees scrounging for direction and answers. I have spent many a night on the floor crying, begging Mike to come back. I've dance under the stars with my dead fiance; desperately wanting his touch, longing for the days when his arms were wrapped around my life. Many times, I have wandered through the day completely absent with thoughts of him endlessly ruminating in my mind. Grief is gutting. I know how hard it is for you to live with the relentless heaviness and ache in your chest. If I am awake I'm likely on the verge of tears at any given moment, I get it. I have noticed, with time, the ache in my heart is softening a little and my tears don't last as long anymore. But, still, the emptiness is there. And, maybe in some weird way, that's okay. Maybe we are meant to use this emptiness and rootlessness as our foundation. Maybe we need to feel the emptiness and absorb all this "missingness" into every cell of our body. If we feel it and lean into our grief we will learn something about ourselves. I think there in the empty silence - is where the answers are for all of us. I've decided that if I am going to survive Mike's sudden death I have to build a purposeful life around the emptiness inside me.
So, I haven't told you Who I am. Well, for starters...