The Thing Is
BY ELLEN BASS
to love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you’ve held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you down like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.
Words such as these tend to unleash and ignite something within me and experience a softer landing when my exterior is porous and malleable. When it’s hardened, armored, which sometimes it is, these words may slip off, yet they never land too far away from me to stumble over when I’m ready to take notice.
In fresh loss what the author articulates feels alien and foreign. Almost as if it’s wishful thinking and may happen for others, yet never will it become my world. I was trying with all of my might to escape life, this harsh reality that I could not silence. Allowing in only a tiny bit of sunshine and a slight wind to brush against my cheek. Too much of anything, noise, questions, silence, eyes sneaking peeks at me, pity, shaking of heads, wondering if this could happen to me, why not them? These kinds of lived experiences I simply could not tolerate for any sustained length of time as they made me feel overwhelmed and scattered all about.
This is when the art of cocooning and taking care of myself became and still to this day is paramount. A responsibility to myself for my ongoing healing took me over completely. I had no choice, it simply happened before I even knew what had occurred. My memos to self became: drink water, try to feel and move my body even just for a few nano seconds to remember I still I had one that I needed to care for, bathe because I knew it would make me feel better even when I hardly could find the energy to do so and try to eat foods that were simple, fresh and sourced from the ground. Anything beyond this I did not attempt because these were the first baby steps I was taking towards my “yes.” I will take you life and live within you once again when everything within me screamed the contrary, a deafening, “no,” how can I when my son is not earth side to share the oxygen with me?
As I have recounted often in my writing, I’m not sure how any of this happens? I hoped with every fiber of my being that if I just kept showing up and tried to do the next right thing, even if I was not sure of what it was, maybe, just maybe I could zip myself back into a life that I might one day feel comfortable inhabiting. Most days, I can live within my life that I’ve been growing. I say, most, because nothing feels absolute for me with grief, loss and moving into healing. It simply just is. What remains a given is my unwavering love for my son and as long as I am zipped into this life of mine, he will forever remain stitched within it alongside of me. Now, that is absolutely something I can and I am learning how to live with.
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