Grief and Gratitude

Yesterday I was brittle and never even made it to the ocean. I re-read the second half of Caravan of No Despair (Mirabai Starr). Here's the crazy part: In May Oralee said she had just read this book. I immediately looked it up and felt compelled to buy it. I read it in two days. It's a memoir of Mirabai's life up to and through the death of her 14-year-old daughter. I could relate to many aspects of her wild, spirited life and was amazed and horrified by all that she went through. Then Hunter died. I have been slowly re-reading her experience after Jenny died... savoring the rawness, the gut punch, the mystery of grief that unzipped her entire life, and fashioned something new in its place. I have this courageous woman's story lighting my way, helping me to feel sane during an insane time. She names things that I have experienced or am afraid I will have to face. She reminds me that out of all the agony and anguish a life rearranged will emerge—but not to hurry the process. There are millions that have walked this path of mourning, their faces burning as they are so close to the brilliance of Spirit/God.

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Meanwhile, I stay in touch with Hunter's friends. I speak my truth with no apology. I walk the beaches and wade into the soothing water, allowing the mother to wash my sorrow out to sea. I made my shrine to Hunter on the deck of this house yesterday -- and then spent an hour on the phone with a friend in crisis. Despite the despair we were feeling-- the helplessness, we ended our night with gratitude because no matter how rough things are (and I know I don't know anything about the suffering so many in this world have experienced) there is always something to be grateful for. Always.