Almost

I’m almost ready to post again here at mysteryoriley.  I guess by my posting tonight, I’m saying it’s time to say something, so almost is actually “now”.  Huh.

So much has happened in these last few months.  Thank you to everyone who has posted comments on various pages and posts over these last 6+ years.  I hope to reply to each of you when able.  Many of your comments have been posted when I’ve been at work or studying for school, and I see them in my email, but can’t quite cope with replying at the time.  Please know that I’ve read your comments, your stories about your lost children, and your distress in grief.  I get it.  This is my work – complicated grief – the kind that demands our attention because we have no answers, or because the answers are simply too tragic to acknowledge as our lot in life.  Oh, exhale.  There are so many of us, and we have so few avenues for positive outcomes.

Yet, there are ways to become attuned with our losses.  It doesn’t seem so in the early days, weeks, months, and years.  If we keep looking at the world around us, and become engaged with the circle of life that surely surrounds us, ultimately, we do find purpose and meaning again.  In the mystery, there is a strangely logical acceptance.  At least, for me.  I hope the same is, or will become, true for you.

I think Owen would have loved Philip Glass’ music.  When I listen to Glass, I see Owen.  I see the instant, the distance, and the unknown.  I hear Owen’s voice in the music.  I hear…well, I hear.  And, I listen to the bliss that is this life and the next.  In child loss, or in any tragic loss of a significant loved one, there is no “mad rush” to resolution.  There is only being in the grief and allowing it to develop into transformation.

Song for the night: Philip Glass, “Mad Rush”  

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~ by lsiniard on January 31, 2014.

One Response to “Almost”

  1. Just stumble across you as I look for something to tell me everything is going to be ok.. and yet knowing at he same time that life without the smile in my day is unimaginable and yet it is so… My son Shea died on Feb -6 2014 and the world stopped and yet noticing now everyone is living ..He was 22 and I always called him MY SMILE MY LIGHT AND MY LITTLE DARK KNIGHT IN SHINING ARMOUR.. Blessing’s much on the road you walk…Looks like you have been doing a great thing here… God bless you for that…xxx

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