In the eighteen months since losing my son, I’ve navigated grief by tirelessly running my body and brain, hating the world and everyone in it, blaming myself, and trying like hell to find ways to heal. The journey is endless and the path is dense and crooked, but I continue to search for answers that lead to truth, understanding, and love.
After many, many months of staying extremely busy, I finally tired of the constant rush and decided to embrace the quiet. It’s a difficult state when you’re mourning. For the quiet often allows the sad to creep in and overwhelm. But, as I’m learning, the sad will never really leave, and I don’t really want it to. It’s a reminder of the love, and I wouldn’t trade that love for the world.
As part of my new found appreciation for quiet time, I’m trying to learn to meditate. The irony is, I can’t learn to do anything without reading about it first. So instead of just ‘practicing’ meditation, I read three books on how to do it. When all meditation takes is quieting your mind, I’m thinking too hard about how to quiet my mind.
Anyway, one of the ‘experts’ wrote a piece on spirituality. His message was simple: All living beings have a spirit, therefore to connect to ‘spirit’ one must recognize the value of all living things.
Sure. To me, that makes perfect sense. For me to be closer to my sweet baby in Heaven, I need to appreciate the life of everyone, everything, here on Earth as it is now. And on our ten hour drive that very next week…
I started praying for roadkill.
Every possum, every deer, every skunk, every lump of fur I saw on the side of the road, I said, (in my head of course – my husband already thinks I’m a lunatic, he doesn’t need any more reason to roll his eyes)
“Dear Father in Heaven, please bless this sweet animal who lost its life and make sure it is safe and at peace.”
Now if only I could get my poor house plant to benefit from my new appreciation for life.