Feel It All
There's a tug between simply being here... on the rooftop deck of this amazing historic home in Key West, rooster crowing, doves lined up on the power lines, lush palm trees, coffee at hand... and straying into the past month and years. At this moment, there is a sweet sweaty breeze, my heart is quiet, my feet are longing for the sand. At this moment the world is a miracle of flight, song, and presence. This is the gift and the challenge of grieving (and of living)-- being fully in this moment, with whatever arises-- to not deny joy when it bubbles up, even when that voice in my head says "you can't be happy, your son is dead"-- yet, if the joy is there, how would denying it benefit anyone? This is the dance and the practice. Riding the waves of the full emotional spectrum-- there would be no highs without the lows, no crest without the trough.
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Feel it all. I'm going to feel it all.
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Last night we walked past the cemetery that takes up 10 city blocks... fitting that it's so close to the house...and I felt grateful that Hunter is buried in a place with grandmother trees to watch over and space all around for me to feel safe as I grieve and create. The cemetery here is tightly packed with stacked tombs and not a shred of green. I handed the baton of caretaking/creating Hunter's grave to his friends and last night, just as I was laying my head on the most perfect pillow on the softest sheets, I got a text from Effy with photos. Wow! They did an amazing job and I felt so much pride and gratitude. It reminds me that a lot of what's missing for our youth is the opportunity to participate in the fullness of life-- they yearn for the chance to engage their creativity, demonstrate their caring, show up for others-- I've seen this since the day Hunter died. His friends (some of whom he didn't know cared so much) have painted rocks, shared photos and stories with us, had gatherings at his grave, and in his favorite park in Corvallis and supported one another. They reach out to us and say-- "please let me know if there is anything I can do for you," and they mean it. They want to connect. They feel our pain. They are so loving and kind. It's our job (I believe) to take them at their word and give them a chance to show up.
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I'm off to the beach before the day heats up. I will carry all of you with me in my heart.