Merger

“I got a new book at the library yesterday and I’m so excited to read it! I feel just like your Dad!” And that was all it took. To remind me that even though I’ve been adrift in the sea of grief over losing my dear friend and her daughters, the underlying grief of losing my Dad is still very, very present.

And so today I feel as if I’ve been punched in the stomach, again. As if I’m never going to quite get out from underneath this cast of loss. And, wow, does that ever suck.

I spent about 90 minutes yesterday completely immersed in the words of the Buddha and I emerged from that time feeling pretty balanced and like I would actually make it through this journey. I spent all day feeling like I could not only get myself through this, but help to get others through it as well. And now, that I am feeling weighted down once more by sadness and self-questioning, I’m wondering if all of the reaching out I did yesterday was of benefit to anyone but me. Reaching out is very possibly one of the hardest things I’ve ever done, every single time I do it. But I made myself do it yesterday, with the ghosts of the people I love whispering in my ear, I did it. And I did it because it rang in harmony with my heart to do so, not because I wanted a response. And that was what probably felt the best about the simple act of reaching out to people I care about, both newfound and those who have been around a while. And this morning, losing my wind as my grief once more doubled on me, I doubt all of that. Basing my own self worth, once again, on the response of others to me. Such silliness.

There is so much fear associated with loss. Especially when you are watching someone else go through it. Because in all reality, you don’t know what to do for them, because, really, there’s nothing for you to do. So to compensate for that inability, we compound that with fears about saying something wrong, or making it worse somehow. And I suppose I have a unique position at the moment, because I am simultaneously on the very outside to someone who just lost those closest to him but I am also intimately associated with what it feels like to be that person as I just lost my Dad.

And here’s what I know from just losing my Dad – I know that I appreciate every single person who reaches out to me, to tell me they’re thinking of me, or to ask how I am. I appreciate every single thought and every single gesture. And that there is no way that one person, reaching out with their heart, could ever make it any worse.

So the question becomes, how do I merge the two? How do I merge the perspectives in an effort to banish the fear and just walk as I’m led by my heart, all the time?