I’m off the grid these days. Life is trying to teach me some things and I am trying to listen. Doing my best to be brave while sitting quietly and patiently… letting the wisdom soak down to my bones. Letting it soften my heart and change me into a better version of who I was before.
I’ve been reading more voraciously and finding so much comfort in the wisdom and kindness of others. My dear friend Ingrid shared a column that is equal parts soul crusher and salve. Dear Sugar just hits all the right notes in showing the darkness and light that comes with losing a loved one. The following quotes are my favorites and were lifted from Sugar’s responses on a post called, The Obliterated Place. About a father losing his son.
11. I keep imagining you lying on your bed and wailing. I keep thinking that hard as it is to do it’s time for you to go silent and lift your head from the bed and listen to what’s there in the wake of your wail.
16. The obliterated place is equal parts destruction and creation. The obliterated place is pitch black and bright light. It is water and parched earth. It is mud and it is manna. The real work of deep grief is making a home there.
19. Forgiveness bellows from the bottom of the canoe. There are doubts, dangers, unfathomable travesties. There are stories you’ll learn if you’re strong enough to travel there. One of them might cure you.
24. You go on by doing the best you can, you go on by being generous, you go on by being true, you go on by offering comfort to others who can’t go on, you go on by allowing the unbearable days to pass and allowing the pleasure in other days, you go on by finding a channel for your love and another for your rage.
28. The kindest and most meaningful thing anyone ever says to me is: your mother would be proud of you. Finding a way in my grief to become the woman who my mother raised me to be is the most important way I have honored my mother. It has been the greatest salve to my sorrow. The strange and painful truth is that I’m a better person because I lost my mom young. When you say you experience my writing as sacred what you are touching is the divine place within me that is my mother. Sugar is the temple I built in my obliterated place. I’d give it all back in a snap, but the fact is, my grief taught me things. It showed me shades and hues I couldn’t have otherwise seen. It required me to suffer. It compelled me to reach.
30. Make it beautiful.
The entire post and exchange is so luminous. Read it here.