My Truth

By Angie Cartwright

In my deepest of truths, I thought that if I could stay angry in grief then there would be no pain.  I have learned that anger is a way to survive above the grief.  You can’t touch me when I am in this place.  It shields me from all reality.  My anger, a feeling like any other, is pain.  It’s a painful emotion that fuels all my other feelings.  It keeps me from them at the same time it throws me directly into them. Beneath the anger is my fear, fear of what will happen, what won’t happened, and what just happened.

So this is what grief is for me.  My heart hurts.  The anger lessens but leaves me feeling raw and vulnerable.  My tears begin to flow.

So this is what it is to be human.  I feel vulnerable, raw, messy, scared, lost, and alone. Why do I reject these feelings? They are a part of who I am, just like happiness. When I push away the “bad’ feelings, they get worse.  When I permit myself to feel the “bad” feelings, they visit and leave.

So here is another truth deeper than the deepest:  I want to live, and feel.  In order for me to do that, I have to accept all of me.  I am a human being made with many feelings. To live and feel, I have to experience whatever comes my way.

I know it’s easier to write about this than to actually do it, that’s the truth.  So today I will try to embrace my humanness, not just some of me but all of me.  My healing depends on my honesty, and I can’t worry about what others think.  My life depends on it.

The Gift

My heart drops, as it often does.  It doesn't take much when I’m tired, or if I hear or see something, for my heart to feel the heaviness.  And then the lump in my throat starts to grow, and I have to swallow hard.  It often happens in public, which makes it worse.  

It's easy to ruminate the loss, but hard to remember the relationship we once shared.  The void easily breaking through the laughter when I turn my head and suddenly hear someone say "mom."  And there goes my heart.  It takes my breath away.  Loss does that, takes it all away.  

I often wonder if anyone around me is grieving and if so, I wish I could tap them gently on their arm and say, “You know, I really miss my mom today.  Please tell me about your loved one.”  We could cry together, or not.  There would be no rules.  But we would share the heaviness in our hearts, the lump in our throat, and the void in our lives.  

My heart is heavy today.  I would give anything to sit next to another griever, just to be with them right now at this moment.  Maybe our shared heaviness would be the beginning of a new friendship.  Either way, it’s a knowing and understanding of another’s pain that empowers the soul.  When two unit and share their pain, there is an undeniable connection.  You don’t even have to speak.  Your souls connect and, in that connection, the heaviness feels just a tiny bit lighter and there is comfort knowing there is someone else in the universe who gets it.  

To all of you who have shared your heaviness with me, I give you my heartfelt love.  For you see, when you share your grief then I feel not as isolated and my pain lessens, if even only for a brief moment.  That moment when we connect and share.  Even when it’s brief, love and compassion and understanding are true gifts.  

Thank you for your gifts, my grieving brothers and sisters.  

With all my love,

Angie Cartwright