12 August 2014

like a window


grief opens grief like a window

like a can opener

stirs silt from the bottom

shakes loose parts newly or incompletely mended

rattles around, making noisy messes, reminding me acutely of things that hurt to remember.

As I think about the brilliance lost in Robin William's heartbreaking choice, I think too about the losses we all share, those who have loved someone who has made this nearly unthinkable decision. And while I am so very sad for Robin, that this felt like the only choice he had left, I am more sad for his family, those who loved him, all of us who felt somehow connected to his wry smile, his tenderness, his humanness.  It exposes our collective vulnerability somehow.

After losing a beloved to suicide, 11 years ago this past weekend, I have finally gained solace of a sort during hard work this past year... a hard won healing. Tender always, but a new sense of something like peace, I guess... a still point of understanding I did not have before-- before, suicide was simply unthinkable, unimaginable, and my loss, the world's loss of my beloved, was totally beyond my comprehension.

Now, after experiencing being taken down by anxiety into an underworld of desperation-- I understand things I did not understand before.

I sought help, took it, take it, seek it. And thanks to this intervention I have returned home to myself.

But I understand now, desperation, in a way I did not.

I understand just wanting to make the pain stop. And simply not being able to stand it. Feeling lost, taken over, alone.

And I wish for all who feel lost, to reach out, get help, allow help in. Please.

In this moment, I sit with this sadness, with the echos of my own loss, my own grief, and let it (as best I can) move in and through... knowing, after all this time, that it will move like water, downstream, if I allow it to pass through my knowing, my heart, my memories, and not try to hold on for the sake of having something to hold on to.


2 comments:

Queenie. . . said...

Beautiful post, Kate. The ideas that tough times pass, and that sometimes help is needed, is so important for all of us to remember. You sound like you are doing okay, and I'm so glad to see that.

Emily Erin said...

Thank you for this lovely reflection. I was thinking that it's about the time when those memories come for you; I am glad that you are beginning to find some peace in the midst of that awfulness... I am also so very glad that in this moment you are seeking the help that you need.

I won't say that I'm *glad* that you have more insight into that gaping void of awfulness, but it does lend perspective-- good or bad I'm not sure, and I think that it's useful as a human to be able to have compassion for someone who may be in that terrible place.

I'm glad that you got to be in Maine, and I hope that reentry is/was gentle and painless.