Saturday, January 7, 2017

It is essential to give yourself time to grieve

Today I was gong to write about acceptance and re-emerging from a dark place into the light. This thought was prompted by a (message) conversation I had with one of my readers.
But as I woke up with a heavy heart, I decided to write about what comes before re-emerging ... giving yourself time to grieve.

I woke this morning with a heavy heart.
Observing the pain, I felt that the base of it is the heart-ache of missing my beloved cat Robert who passed away a week ago.

Feeling intense sorrow
from Latin gravare, gravis
Heavy, Grave*

Robert and I had such a routine build up.
In the morning he would lie on the right side of my bed to "hunt" for my toes. Always the right, never the left. Then he'd lie on his back, his head cuddled up to my chest. When I sit up on the bed and he'd circle around me, always anti-clockwise. Giving me 'kissses' when he come to the front of me. Little head-butts and a lick on my forehead or cheek. Three or four times, as if he was building a protective wall around me for the day.

As soon as I have one toe on the floor, his priorities changed from loving to needing... FOOD!!!

Every day during the past week, I see, feel, and hear his presence, and yet he is not here.
Receiving a package in the post yesterday, I was left with an empty box and no cat to climb into it. An empty yoghurt tub which has to be rinsed out, in stead of licked clean. I open the front door, but he is not on the doormat. In stead I see his grave.  (grieving- grave).

It breaks my heart that his life came to an abrupt end. And yet, I somehow knew that is was coming. Although he was not seriously ill, I felt that he was not himself either. The last few nights I'd have a chat with Robert and said that if he had to pass on, it is ok. I am ok. And thanked him for all the years we have spend together. He was diagnosed with diabetes on the day he died, but died probably of heart attack. It was heart breaking to watch his last struggles for breath. The Vet kindly came over to help him go to his eternal sleep.
I am grateful I was connected with Robert to make the call to have him at home, on his drip, and not have him alone - lonely at the Vet's - a place that would bring him fear.

I realize that I am good at putting things in perspective. To deal with what I have to deal with. To not get overwhelmed with emotions. To stay strong. But then the  - Grieve - Feeling intense sorrow - hit me this morning.

While writing these last few words, I could barely swallow the lump in my throat. And the tears are flowing.  The voice-recognition software does not recognize my voice when upset... so have to write with my fingers...

I know that lump is not just about Robert. It is about the challenges that illness, and life in general brings too.
At times 
illness makes 
you feel cheated 
out of life *

Grieving how meetings with friends are often dictated by my body's demands. Grieving about being a lot of the time on my own. The missing of taking part in society the way I would like to. Yet, I know I am quite content to follow my own simple routine in my beautiful and peaceful surroundings.
Sorrow that I am not able to be as a good a friend to my friends as they are to me. I give them time and a listening ear, but can't do much in practical terms. Grieving about people lost in my life, and those who are very ill and I can't be with. 
Reading my own words from Into the Light, I know that

It is
to allow yourself
 to grieve* 

I know that my sorrow will pass.
I know.
I have been there before.
It just hit me right in my heart this morning.

For now I will go underground, and soon I will write about how I do emerge back into the light again, armed with the wisdom from the earth.

Leaving you with a few words of wisdom from the amazing Peter Cornish from Dzogchen Beara:

Desire is the weather that stirs up this climate of pain.

It’s the wind on which we sail our ship into the ocean of sorrow.
Peter Cornish - Dazzled by Daylight *

* All quotes from a page of Into the Light  available from my WEB SHOP

Be Well my friends,
and Thank You for joining me on my journey.


Unknown said...

Sorry for your loss x

Therese Doherty said...

A beautiful post.

Corina Duyn said...

Thank you Diane and Therese, for stopping by and for your kind comments.
It warms my heart that I am able to share my thoughts with you and others.

best wishes

Sue said...

Thank you for sharing these beautiful words, and much grace and love to you

Corina Duyn said...

Thank you Sue.

Best wishes to you!