Last week was rough.
I wanted to post, but after a couple of deaths in my circle, I just wanted to go to bed after work. Usually I can push through and even blog the next day, but I simply didn’t have it in me… so I thought.
When I’m full (sad, tired, excited, all of it), one of my coping behaviors is to free write. Whatever is on my mind ends up on the page. Sometimes it’s difficult to read later, but at least it isn’t swirling in my soul without a place to land or filling my mind with stress. In this case, I was sad and frustrated at the grieving process. In essence, I wanted the rawness of the loss to pass. The part of grief where everything is firing and numb at the same time. So, I wrote the following to keep the process moving. I hope it gives you hope if you’re experiencing the same.
When Pillars Pass
When a person that has shaped your life passes away, the Earth shifts a little. She knows she is carrying a heavyweight. She welcomes the return. She exhales in relief and says welcome home. When her role is fulfilled, the spirit of that Pillar ascends to its Originator and the sky opens up her arms and smiles. “Hello, Baby,” she says like an 85-year-old grandmother with cocoa-weathered skin and a warm smile spread across her face. Head slightly tilted to let you know it’s real. I believe that’s what happens when we die.
But when Pillars pass… when a person who amplified divine gifts in you, there’s more. Let me explain how it feels to me.
Pillars aren’t supposed to move. They’re the support beams of your existence. All around, you can find their impact on your life. So when they die, a vacuum effect removes the land from beneath your feet. All that you know and reverenced. All that you upheld now feels like grains of sand you can’t stop from falling between your fingers. It’s an alternate reality. Your footing feels off like you’re in a wicked funhouse. You can tell your axis has changed, but before you lose all control, those grains of sand start filling the holes beneath your feet. You remember the words he said and the cakes she made. You hear his laughter as the sand migrates toward your heart. Wisdom. Jokes. Phone calls. Food runs. The memories overtake you and suddenly, you are sonically surrounded by the beauty of her voice.
Then, you smile.
The sand starts to feel more like a warm blanket of comfort. It doesn’t take away the sting of their absence, but it does create a force field of love around you. Whatever she deposited in you floats to the surface. His life-giving words are saturated enough to water your soul again.
That’s the beauty of Pillars. Although it hurts like hell to lose them, they give you everything you need to stand on your own. Everything you need to continue.
I wish I could press a big pause button that would prevent them from passing away, but deep down we know those people in our lives will transition at some point. So, what do you do when it happens? You remember their gifts. You recall their lessons. You remind yourself that you were a vessel they valued and that they shared priceless oil with you.
I know it’s difficult.
I know the tears are inevitable.
It doesn’t mean your grief is weak.
It means you were blessed to be born into her family. You were favored to cross paths with him. Take daily comfort in knowing that s/he knew you were good ground to sow their seeds. The same seeds of wisdom and skill they could have died with are now in you.
So use them and sow them well. Don’t let their teaching die with you. Don’t let the natural process of grief choke the new growth that is happening inside.
Grow up and be a Pillar to someone else.
The same oil is still needed.
I’m praying for all of you that are missing your loved ones. I’m so sorry you’re hurting. You are surrounded by prayers of love, peace, comfort, and warm memories that make you smile. 🙂
Peace & Thanks for listening!