Looking back over my childhood and first half of my life...

I felt the pain and sadness of those parts of me that were unable to function, unable to be happy, unable to do and create in life.

The ones who were in pain, who felt lonely, who felt abandoned, shamed, who did not know how to love, how to receive love and ultimately how to love themselves…

the ones who held this for me so I could breathe and live.

At the time of their time…

they could not afford to grieve, to be weak, to allow love.  

Love was a dangerous thing.  

They could only clinch tightly and march forward with their stinging consignments.

Years passed, relief still an impossible dream. 

And, then, after the march had been long and weary and exquisite, profound exhaustion was upon them, they could hold their consignments no more and kindly asked: 

'Are you ready?' 

Yet, it was more of a deep plea and soft demand both and at once. 

'Yes' I replied.  

So then I began doing the grieving for them, decompressing them, lastly allowing them the space and acceptance of who they are and how they feel. 

And mixed in with their grieving thru me,  I was also grieving for them and myself.

It is odd - the many angles of grieving. 

There is much going on inside me.

Sometimes the grieving was sharp and stabbing and at other moments the abating heaved and gasped until I was temporarily breathless and utterly spent.

Sometimes it was a sweet weep with gratitude to them for being on the front lines, for holding it together no matter what was happening...  

holding it together in that we are all still alive and above ground.

So many times was death wished for and actually reached for but never accomplished, so many times when the sweet release from the body would have meant sweet release from the pain and unrelenting darkness that endlessly encapsulated.

Sometimes the grieving was for the missed opportunities of what could have been, had the girl and young woman been whole, been sound, been lusciously and lavishly in their creative juices and able to produce worlds of color and grand magic.

Sometimes the grieving was for the missed opportunities of perhaps a lasting love, a love where two people joyously celebrate each other in their successes, in their failures, in times of great loss and sadness and in times of triumphant climbs in consciousness, a love of longevity, of lasting and abiding companionship that supports and braces everything about them as a whole.

More and more the grieving became one of a final farewell to them in a sense, but actually the relieving them of the madness, for having unknowingly loved without knowing they loved so much that no matter what they did, no matter how confused and miserable they were, no matter how much they destroyed themselves from lack of knowing how to care for themselves they continued, they lived, they strived to take the next step and the next...

And grieving for them because... 

they showed me the way to me and of the herculean task that was required to deliver me to me.

They were the ones who held the aching, held the turmoil, held the insanity so I could finally emerge, so I could claw my way to and know peace, know creation, know love…

And it was now my turn to finally show and bring it to them so that they could, at last, be whole, be at peace and live thru me. 

I relish this, this position I am in to enfold them in my everlasting care and tender love.

I love and thank them for holding me up, even though they almost gave up.

I Am In Awe Of You.

© 10.30.2012

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An excellent heart-warming tune:

Timsel by Mumford & Sons

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