Losing someone can rip you apart. Leaving a gaping empty hole.
A hole that can’t be filled by another living being, because the person you lost is irreplaceable. But instead, with time, it fills with love, acceptance, healing, and strength.
I went through most of my life never experiencing loss, never understanding death, joyfully pretending we all live forever.
And then there was this drunk driver. She killed a man I used to care deeply for. And so I welcomed Death into my life, unwillingly. And we started to get acquainted.
And then Death wanted more. So She took my best friend. My soul mate. My everything. The girl who reflected my spirit in hers and who moved through life with me like water.
No warnings. No goodbyes.
From that I learned what it means to have your heart ripped out. What it feels like to cry as though you’ll never stop crying. What it’s like to sleep for days, just to escape being awake.
Death had moved into me. She took me over and invaded every cell in my body. She breathed out of me and right back in. Circulating, viciously.
Death’s nasty grip left me no choice but to carry Her with me. Everywhere.
In the beginning (and in the middle) I hated Her. Resented Her. But with time, I learned from Her. And so She changed from thief and villain to teacher.
I learned about love and friendship {the good ones, and the bad}. About embracing moments. About following my heart. About acting despite fears. About living with compassion and being bold. About never giving up. About taking chances and living colorfully. About seizing opportunities. About what matters, and what doesn’t. About gratitude. About boundaries and ownership, of my life. About me.
When my best friend came to me in a dream, a dream so real I could smell her hair as she hugged me, I learned that with death comes peace. She was her but magnified; radiating love and tranquility. As beautiful as ever yet more beautiful than ever. She told me that she’s okay now and that I’ll be okay too.
And with her assurances, I learned that souls move on. The love never fades and the story never ends.
My husband and I recently suffered another personal loss. But I hardly cried. I felt the pain, hard, but I didn’t shatter. And I got out of bed. At first I wondered what’s come of me. Has my heart hardened to a fault. And has Death taken a permanent grip on my life. Will She ever let go.
But I see now, I’ve just transformed. With each death I aged, in wisdom. And I learned to take Life and Death, and all their lessons, and carry them with me (lovingly) as I move forward. Death has no vendettas, just more lessons to teach me, about life.
And when my time comes, I’ll know that I lived, fully. That I loved, ridiculously. That I gave, endlessly. And that nothing was ever taken for granted. Not one single day.
I’m not going to thank Death for the lessons, but She no longer feels like the enemy. Death just is.
Life. Death. And everything in between.
The in between just wouldn’t be as sweet without the beginning and the end.
What has Death taught you? How have you grown from loss? Leave a comment below and share your experience.
|
thank you Liz for sharing
i am sorry for your losses
they are touching words and empowering lessons. i hope to be as strong when faced with the same circumstances
i hope you don’t have any more holes to fill for a while
i admire how you have chosen to move forward
thank you again for your words
Thanks so much for reading Carl and for your lovely words.
Dearest Liz,
I feel your pain as if it were my own, perhaps because I know too well that heart wrenching and bottom of the stomach helpless feeling of losing a loved one.
I know there is meaning in death and that life itself is birth and death and yet as a human being who feels still get caught up on the world of form, on the impermanent, on the feeling of what I think should be, instead of what is.
Then sometimes a dream (like yours) or a momentary awakened glimpse into what really is, brings peace and light and beauty to my life and that makes the pain disappear. Part of my daily mission now (thanks to death) is emptying my heart and giving myself completely and without reservations so when my moment to leave this earth comes, I can part in peace.
Thank you for sharing this incredibly beautiful part of your heart and soul with us.
Love you,
-Bern
Thanks so much for sharing this Bern. Sounds like we’ve had similar experiences, however unique they might be. Heart wrenching, bottom of the stomach helpless, is exactly how I’d sum up that feeling. It’s amazing how deeply experiences like this can change your perspective on life. It’s too bad we often have to wait to learn the lessons the hard way.
I’m truly sorry for your losses. I do see how you pour your heart into what you do and what you give. You make the world richer with your selflessness and you are clearly living it to the fullest, giving all that you are.
So glad to have met you in this lovely online world.
XO
Thank you for writing so openly about death. It is something that people ignore, cover over, avoid…. and so, when you are in the midst of grief, your loss is amplified by the silence of the people around you. Very courageous for you to write. Thank you. I lost my soul mate brother two years ago. If you’d like, you can read about my journey at http://www.paulettepumpkinjohnson.blogspot.com. Look, especially, for the entry “assault”.
Paulette
Hey Paulette,
I’m so sorry about your loss. Your brother Tom sounds like an amazing spirit and it’s beautiful how close you two were. And I’m sorry for the silence. It’s so hard for people to deal with things like this I think, people are so worried about saying the wrong things. Thanks for sharing your story here. My heart goes out to you.
Oh, my heart is so touched by this…I’m so sorry to hear about your losses, and the way you speak of our best friend. I can feel the pain you had while grieving. I feel as if Death and I really haven’t met yet. My grandparents, who I loved, died when I was young so I don’t really remember being sad. I did, however, have a miscarriage the first time I got pregnant. I was in my 12th week or so and I was devastated. But I think I learned what you mentioned in the post, that “souls move on.” Death isn’t an enemy…but a teacher.
Thanks for your sweet words Lisa! I think looking for the lessons in things helps to bring comfort. Thanks for sharing your experience.
[...] bringing us together. Random parties or events when he’d come back to New York. Shared friends. Tragedy. The New York Bar [...]
[...] who could change your life. To apply for that job you’ve always wanted. Remind yourself of how short life is. In the end, any discomfort or rejection won’t really matter. The only way to achieve things you [...]
[...] getting into the details, we lost our first shot at parenthood. And while I thought I handled that loss like a rock star, hardly any tears shed despite the trauma involved, it came back to haunt me [...]
This is beautiful. I followed the trail from Hannah Marcotti to your pregnancy post to this. I think the conversations around life and death, birth and loss, pregnancy and depression, parenting and gentle acceptance need to be had often, with love. I send you wishes for a healthy, happy end to your pregnancy, a beautiful empowered birth (whatever that looks like for you and your husband) and the freedom to feel/grieve whatever arises.
Thank you for such a beautiful comment Alana. We’re so excited for what’s to come. And I agree, I think these conversations need to happen more freely, always with love, so that there are less surprises and more support. Thanks so much for reading. xo
[...] who could change your life. To apply for that job you’ve always wanted. Remind yourself of how short life is. In the end, any discomfort or rejection won’t really matter. The only way to achieve things you [...]
I learned that life is a precious gift, I learned that love does not die, I leaned to love and appreciate every moment, I learned to say I love you.
[...] I learned more from that loss than any experience of my life. It taught me the value of life, a lesson I’ve never forgotten. And so I stopped wasting time on many of the trivial things that used to plague my mind, heart and attention. I stopped letting myself feel run over by life or by people. Her loss helped me take the reins of my own life in a way I had never done before. [...]
love <3
[...] the ones you want around if you’re in a bind, if disaster strikes, if all hell breaks lose, if tragedy hits you. Sensitivity is often labeled as a weakness but in reality it cultivates a strength most people [...]
[...] lost my best friend on 9/11. That was one of the hardest times of my life. And of course I remember the horror of it [...]