cycles of grief

Last week was very hard. I haven’t felt like myself, and I haven’t felt very motivated to recover myself. I avoided meditation like the plague because somewhere deep inside, I wasn’t ready to face myself.

For all we know by Donny Hathaway has haunted my mind this last week.

“For all we know

We may never meet again

Before you go

Make this moment sweet again

We won't say goodnight

Until the last minute

I'll hold out my hand

And my heart will be in it

For all we know

This may only be a dream

We come and we go

Like the ripples of a stream

So love me, love me tonight

Tomorrow was made for some

Tomorrow may never come

For all we know”

I kept dismissing this tune from my mind because all it reminded me of was a slow death of an intimate connection that I could not save.

This death of a connection then reminded me of all the loved ones I’ve lost in the last 2 years. The paranoia of wondering how many funerals I’d have to attend. How much more heartache?

And then I could only think of the various deaths of life. Nothing that could be done to stop it.

So you see, me practicing through meditation would make me have to listen to my own grief, and that was simply too much because my heartache was already too strong.

Through therapy I’ve been realizing that when navigating trauma we spend what feels like forever grieving all the love that was lost. 

I didn’t want to admit that I’m still grieving. I didn’t want to accept that this intimate connection was dying and I had to let it go. I’ve had to let so many people and dreams go these last two years, and it was simply breaking my heart to admit that another part of my life was dying.

So this morning I decided to stop avoiding myself. I got why this song stuck with me this past week. 

Life is unpredictable and we don’t always get to control how things play out. All that we know is that the people, connections, and experiences we have are very real in the moments we hold them. We are bound to sing songs of bliss in the good times, and we need songs of grief to carry us through the harder times. 

I’m tired of grief, I’m tired of loss, but I know I can’t truly move forward if I don’t make room for it to breathe and be processed.

So this morning I cried. I cried for the death of this connection, for the moments that are only memory, for the seasons of grief that seem never ending, and for the unknown. The anxiety of not knowing how soon joy will be followed by sadness.

I let it all out so that as I begin to move forward and heal my broken heart, I’ll know I’m also making space for future joy and love.

For cycles of grief can coexist with cycles of joy, and I want to learn how to hold space for it all.