♥LOVE NOTE – Sunday July 26th, 2015
80 weeks P.F. [Post Fire]…560 days. 18+ months.
I was very moved by a post from a guy who downloaded an app for his iPhone that is counting down the number of days until his oldest son leaves for college. He had 2711 days to go. He is a father who has a bucket list of what he wants to do before he leaves. It’s a good read. See here if you want. It is inspiring.
I don’t think it is maudlin. Far from it.
It got me thinking about my house burning down. Most things still do.
For well over a year (without an app!) I was counting the weeks P.F. [Post Fire]. I stopped sharing about it the beginning of 2015 which is when I stopped writing daily….
It’s like I went ‘dry’. Or maybe it hurt too much to keep focusing on it as the days were adding up and I still wasn’t “over it”.
The first Anniversary – January 12th – 52 weeks – 365 days – came.
I hadn’t recovered.
I was still counting the days, the weeks.
And then just a few days after the first year Anniversary – January 15th – my beautiful precious first grand-daughter ♡Tahlia was born.
I had the exquisite privilege of sharing with my daughter and son-in-law and
watched the miracle of her head crowning,
as her head was born,
as her beautiful body emerged,
heard as she took her first breath. her first cry.
marveled as she opened her eyes searching earnestly for her mother. my beautiful daughter.
It doesn’t get much more precious than sharing the birthing of a new life….now does it?newly born ♡Tahlia
I started counting her days. the weeks. how old she was.
I remember thinking her life and her aliveness was somehow a gift to heal the pain…yet some nights I was still crying myself to sleep “behind my closed door”…..
(from my poem GRIEF ~ About my grief and doing it alone. The D word. 2000)
I lived with them for 7 weeks after she was born absolutely mesmerized and entranced by this little soul….thoroughly indulging my Grandmother heart….
And again, I’m just back to Perth after spending another 4 weeks in Melbourne with them, even more rapt and absorbed by her. Our delightful ♡Tahlia at 6 months grows more and more beautiful everyday….both physically and at a soul level. She has such a sweet and dear nature.
My beautiful grand-baby is teaching me another whole level of unconditional ♡LOVE and pure adoration and cherishment……She opens my ♡Narni heart wider and wider. And by the way, that’s the name my daughter has given me as the Grand-mother.
Yet focusing on other things….. however precious and treasured….isn’t the antidote. cure. remedy. solution. answer. to heart-break. to soul ache.
Many things still remind me and bring tears to my eyes.
Not having my Home anymore still hurts.
I still hurt.
I still ache with the sadness.
It is still hard.
Still terribly. achingly. painfully. sad.
Everyday I remember. I don’t think it is maudlin. Far from it.
Many kind and dear people have been reading and have tenderly ‘held’ me throughout my grieving time……so faithfully and caringly and with compassion showing up reading my outpourings.
Yet how does one really understand another’s world? Do I even understand my own world?
I hear messages like ~
‘you are strong’,
‘you’ve got what it takes’,
‘you’re more than your house/home burning down’,
‘you’re more than your loss’
……I began to wonder whether messages were subliminally placed and concealed in between the lines of the comments that people wrote or said.
Or was/is it just me imagining, inventing, lost in some old trance?
“Aren’t you over it by now?
“You should be over it by now, put it behind you…”
“It’s time to get on with your life”
Unanswered questions hover around…… sometimes like gentle murmurs on the wind and sometimes buffeting and pummeling and feeling like they are just plain shouting at me.
Unanswered questions about –
What do I really want to do with my life?
Where do I want to live?
Whether to build a new house at Warm Fuzzy Hill?
Whether to buy an established house like the one we saw at a Home Open last weekend that we both liked?
What to do with Warm Fuzzy Hill?
– WHETHER to build / WHERE to build / WHAT sort of house to build /WHEN to build – to build or not to build!!!!
– WHETHER to buy / WHERE to buy / WHAT to buy /WHEN to buy.
Inside I hear the echo. the boom. the whisper. of dear ♡Mary Oliver’s words from her poem The Journey
“…“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.’
I hear “Mend your life!”
Some precious words recently received from a most dearest and wonderful friend of sooooooo many years…summarize what many say ~
“The magic of Warm Fuzzy Hill cannot be broken –
but a new era is coming to life…..”
People have so much trust and faith in my ability to get over it. To bring to life that “new era”….
And Yes this is Me…
Me who knows what to do.
Me whose life has been very vision and mission directed.
Me who is seen as being in charge.
Me who can work out the answers.
Me who is seen as knowing things.
Me who dedicates herself to knowing things.
Me who is strong.
Me who has always known how to “Mend my life!”
And right now I am thinking these are past tense. Me who was…
I see how painful it is for others
that I am hurting,
that my heart is still broken,
that I don’t know what to do to stop being homeless,
that I don’t yet have the answers.
Yet I remind myself, I am not house-less. I do have somewhere to live….
Yet I am still homeless.
And still not being able to decide at 80 weeks Post Fire is especially challenging for me as my style throughout my life has been to make decisions very spontaneously and impulsively……being in the precious Now, having a high quotient of the curiosity and creativity ‘genes’…..and throughout my life it has been more about jumping on impulse and experiencing life as full of adventures and going on ‘quests’…..having visions and missions and dreams – AND following them……
And not having to have all my ‘ducks in a row’, nor to have all the i’s dotted and t’s crossed, nor to know that things are safe and secure and predictable….And No that doesn’t mean I have been reckless. It just means that I like and thrive with novelty and mystery…
Maybe like the author above, I need to come up with a bucket list of what I want/need to do before I can stop counting…
Before I can stop counting. days. weeks. months. years. P.F. [Post Fire]
And discover what to do with the rest of my life. And know the answers to the questions…
A few lines from a poem called GRIEF comes to mind that I wrote in 2000 about 6 months after the death of my partner ♡Russ after 25 years of ♡LOVE-ing…(see more here)
“How are you going? They ask
they really mean
make it nice
don’t really show me
of your grief
don’t remind me that my Beloveds
will also die
don’t remind me of all my own
of all the times my heart has ripped apart
of all the times my world has exploded
just keep it clean
keep it nice
so I just tell you I’m going fine…..”
Thank you for letting me share again that even now
sometimes I’m not going fine...
and for the opportunity to truly pay attention and listen to myself…and to be able to have some self-compassion and trust for my process and my way…
And being open and authentic and honest with you somehow makes it more real and more OK.
Reflecting and mulling things over,
♡LOVE and BLESSINGS….from a perplexed and still searching SUSIE.