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Grief

November 16, 2007

I think grief is a sneaky thing, finding its way back into the center of my Self about the time that I’ve decided that I’m feeling okay.  Grief never comes when I am expecting it, when I am ready to meet it on my terms.  Samhain seems the time for grieving, if one must grieve for those who have left this place, but Samhain never feels like grief to me.  Samhain seems to be the time when I wait to hear the voices  of those who have no faces now or those whose once familiar faces are made up of only blurry have remembered pictures in my heart.   But tonight, sitting in the middle of my ordinary life, grief steals up behind me and slams in the back of the heart with a fresh wave of ouch.

In the midst of the horror of my life when I was young, and adolescent trying to make sense of my non-sensical reality, I had a friend.  This was no ordinary friend and no ordinary friendship (though I must say, no friendships are ever really ordinary).   He happened to be a guy and I happened not to be, but that never got in our way.  Somehow, we never tripped over each other’s gender or sexuality in general.  We were just twins of the soul, he and I, and it never occurred to either of us that it would ever be any other way.  I say that our relationship was not ordinary because of our odd sort of bond.  We were connected in the way that twins in storybooks are, feeling each other’s emotions and physical pains no matter where either of us happened to be.  We used to laugh when we tried to call each other, back in the days before call waiting, because each of us would be dialing the other’s number.   When the manure went flying for either of us, the other just showed up, shovel in hand.  When we were broken hearted over ended romances or idiotic parents, the other always had the required shoulder to cry on (or pound, as the situation dictated!).   We each secretly ran away from home once, neither of us confiding in the other, and ended up in the exact same place.  We laughed and cried and then he walked me home.   His girlfriend was another close friend of mine and we used to joke that I would have to be in the middle of the aisle on their wedding day because I was more his best man than her bridesmaid.   When I had broken bones and a bloody face, he would always fix me up and sit with me until the pain was manageable again.  In the nighttime when I could not sleep because I was afraid, he would sneak in and “stand guard” all night so that I could feel safe.

When I was 16 and my world was falling apart again, he was the one I called to come and rescue me.  He was on the way and I could feel him coming, the way I always could.  There was a sudden pain all over me and I knew something terrible had happened.  He was shot and wrecked his car.  I made it to the scene right after the ambulance and I sat with him as he left this place.   Over and over, it seemed that we said I love you.  In some ways, it felt like it took an eternity for him to stop breathing and I swear that he and I talked the whole time, though I can  say now that his mouth never moved.  Yet I heard him so clearly, reminding me to be careful, to stay safe, to stop crying, to really commit to LIVING and not just being here.  I heard him tell me how much he loved me and how he really wasn’t leaving me at all.  I told him everything that I always wanted to: that he was the best friend I would ever have, that he was my hero and my shining knight, that he was the brother of my soul, that I loved him more than anything.  And yet, no words were spoken.

I don’t think about him everyday anymore.  I think that might be a good thing because it’s still so hard to hold all of the good stuff and not hold this grief.  It feels brand new all over again today.  I wish I could say it was his birthday or some other special day.  But it’s just the day that grief comes calling.

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12 Comments leave one →
  1. November 16, 2007 4:04 am

    Grief is like a sneak thief that drops a weighted net of sorrow on you that’s hard to shed. Even after years, you can still fight away tears from the loss. That you for such a poignant sharing. You were blessed to have had such a friendship.

  2. thefoxchild permalink
    November 16, 2007 2:46 pm

    (((Sign))) I am sitting with you and holding you as you weep and honor the love you once shared.

  3. November 17, 2007 12:43 am

    Oh, sig. What an amazing connection and love you had; how devastating the loss of that feels. I honor you, your loss, and the love that will forever live in your heart for this amazing twin-soul.

  4. Grace permalink
    November 17, 2007 3:33 am

    Hello 🙂

    The Divine Mother in me wants to try and find a way to comfort you, and take away your pain.

    I can’t.

    Thank you for being so open….not only about the circumstances surrounding your grief, and your lovely friend who now watches you from The Other Side…

    But thank you for trusting us – those that read you – with such a deeply personal and intimate thing.

    I ask that the Mother of us all would comfort you at this time, and I send you love.

  5. goldenferi permalink
    November 17, 2007 9:57 pm

    What a moving post this was. I cannot imagine enduring such a loss of someone you loved so much. He is with you I’m sure in many ways.

  6. November 19, 2007 6:52 pm

    New here and so grateful to have found you.
    Grief has its own nature and does not seem to fall into line with how we are told to live our lives, rushing about, moving past and on, onward and upward. It comes and it goes and all I know is that it leaves me changed.
    Thank-you for sharing your words, your grief, your honest expressions of this great love in your life.

  7. signmom permalink*
    November 20, 2007 4:24 pm

    Thank you all so much for the loving support. I truly do feel sometimes as if you all gather around me in some mystical grove, watching and witnessing and lending love and support as I try to make my way through of all of this “stuff” that sometimes feels to big to sit with alone. Truly, your companionship here means so much to me.

    Isabel, I am equally grateful that you found me!! Welcome to my coffee shop of sorts. I love the way you expressed mu frustration..that grief moves outside the synchopation of the world that we inhabit. It’s somehow comforting to me to think of grief as moving through me, through the tides of my life, at its own pace. And I am grateful for the opportunity to share not only the grief that he left behind, but the amazing knowingness of what true kinship feels like that he gave to me while he was here. It is true, I believe, that he is with me always in one way or another, if only because knowing him made me so radically different.

  8. carolynlboyd permalink
    November 28, 2007 2:22 pm

    What a gift this friendship was to you and a gift that you have shared it with us. I have losses that are 30 years old that will steal up behind me and come over me almost as if it was the first moment of grief again. Love is eternal and the good aspect of that is that I believe that we are never truly parted from those we love, but the difficult part of that, the price we pay for those enduring connections, is the pain that can come when we feel separated. You are in my thoughts.

  9. November 30, 2007 1:48 am

    SOM, I can’t imagine loosing that half of yourself at such a time in your life…

    Thank you hun for sharing this with us…to be a witness to your grief…and to the love that you had for one another.

    peace of heart and spirit,
    Lil

  10. poseidonsmuse permalink
    December 4, 2007 5:52 am

    Your heart is a beautiful place Signmom. This was a beautiful piece of writing. I hope you can feel the love and warmth of all the caring and supportive spirits that wish to bless you. We have found your light because it is glowing warm and bright. Keep shining sister.

  11. signmom permalink*
    December 5, 2007 8:47 pm

    Thank you all so much! I know that I have been scarce..sort of vanished, to tell the truth. Sometimes this growing and learning and being is so big that I cannot do IT and talk about it at the same time. I have even more admiration now for all of you who manage it so beasutifully and eloquently.

  12. December 26, 2007 1:37 pm

    I understand grief. Emotional hugs and spiritual cuddles to you. I’ve missed your presence.

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