Four Years

Some people look at New Year’s to gauge their progress or reflect upon the year. And upon life in general. For me it’s October 7th.

It’s how I mark the time I guess. Not intentionally. But it is the day that altered my life profoundly.

Before she died. After she died.

It has become a marker of change and transition.

Looking back over this past year much is the same.

My sons are all well. The two youngest with me, the two adults off on their own, the oldest of those two across the ocean for his 4th year.

I’m still with my partner and I still love him like crazy. Our relationship has become stronger and much more effortless while continuing to grow into something very beautiful.

I’m still alcohol free entering into this cycle – I was nearly two months alcohol free entering into the last cycle. It has become more ‘normal’ for me now.

I began a new job, and quit it because one day while working I couldn’t stop crying and I just felt horrified and embarrassed and realized how much anxiety the work brought me as ‘simple’ as it was and never took another shift. (the people themselves were great and I really enjoyed working with them). I then asked for my old job back and so now I’m back with them.

But I also took on another new job – part time job working as parish administrator which is very different for me. It’s been challenging to learn but also very interesting.

We got a pet bunny, and two pet rats. My large dog tore her cruciate ligament which ended up requiring surgery. My two youngest boys lost their grandfather. One of those two boys begun assessments for autism and that has just finished, he also was diagnosed with a learning disability.
And of course Covid came to town.

But this morning, as I look out the window and observe the autumn hued green of the leaves on the alder – the colour they turn before they fall – it all seems like background noise. Like somewhat muted static. Beginnings and endings, global news, drama, constant chatter, chaos, smiles and tears all just endlessly looping.

Today, right now, this morning, is the pause.

before and after.

Before I understood how ugly and physically painful grief could be.

Before the RCMP officer knocked on my door. And after he said the words.

No, there is no joy after grief. Because there is no after grief. There are times of joy alongside grief. There can be laughter. There are new experiences to be had, new memories that get added to our internal database.

But grief sits there observing. Quietly and sometimes not so quietly. A new layer added to the lens through which we view the world.

I miss her just as much, four years later. The only difference is that missing her gets more and more exhausting and so the brain takes more breaks from remembering. Which in turn breaks my heart each time I realize that time has passed without hearing her voice in my mind.

There is no comfort in visiting her grave because my mind is too aware of her shell decomposing beneath me. Nor is there comfort in fanciful ideas of being in ‘heaven’ in God’s arms, or any other make-believe story passed on throughout time.

She is just gone. Not here to hug, to hear, to speak to. I felt her torn out of my being when she passed. A cold, heavy, horrible, crushing separation.

From the earth we come and to the earth we return.

Sometimes I feel her presence, the vibrational energy of her like the reverberation of a musical note after it has ceased to be played. Most often in the falling leaves, in the setting sun, and sometimes I can almost see her sitting at the kitchen table playing happily on her 3ds, probably Animal Crossing. Something cute, sweet and beautiful. Just like her.

5 Comments

  1. FAYE MAUREEN MAGEE

    OMG, this is so beautiful. You have such a way with words, and expressing yourself so well.
    My heart aches for you.

  2. iampeacenow Jane

    I agree – this is so beautiful. A beautiful tribute to your lovely daughter and a beautiful expression of your thoughts, your life, your journey. Another year passing without her voice… These things are a loss immeasurable. But I am glad to read of the joys in your life – those people, moments, animals, things that bring it.

    Our beliefs are each our own…. But I like to believe in those moments you feel her – almost see her – she is checking on you. I don’t wish to hurt you in any way with that thought. Never would I wish to add any pain or frustration.

    Know that I read all of your posts in email updates and I am thinking of you. Always I am wishing you peace and love.

    • Birch

      Thank you. I’m glad that I found you on Xanga so long ago. I promise that you are not adding any pain at all. I hope you are right and that she is indeed checking on me. Peace and love to you as well.

  3. Inga Frank

    Oh my Dear Shilo! I am happy for the good people and things in your life. I understand your grief. It comes and goes. Love, Inga

    Here is a message from beyond:
    RAY
    Is the idea of mission a burden to be released?

    TARA
    The burden is the idea that you are not doing what you came to do. Stay with the theme of reclaiming the ‘bright descriptions’ which you have pushed away.
    This will allay the sense of oppression. You are not being asked to be other than you are, but to re-collect yourself.

    NOVA
    We are – here – you are. You berate yourself by uncertain measure. Be. Your isolation is no mistake and needs no remedy. You void the force of subtle suasion in reservation. Infer no error in your life.

    We are not human, yet we can sense into what you are. Compare yourself with no one. Integrity assures direction more than measure. Do not judge your blankness as you pass the limits of the known.

    The angel resides with you and learns the methods of approach and the ways to open you. These are subtle matters. Do not disappoint yourself by iterating: my experience should be so and so. You are.

    Your sources speak of many axes of meaning and connection. In solitude, beyond persuasion, you can know this radiance of cognition, and fill your vacancy with actuality.

    We, your sources and the angels appear to reach you within a certain tonal range, or from a fixed direction. When we seem to disappear, allow your attention to be guided to our ‘next’ approach. This is no game of testing, but an invitation to know your fluency of awareness.

    Messengers are everywhere, even in the hermit’s cave. Call them out of latency without assuming how their touch will feel. For example, you assume that you must be at ‘appropriate frequency or level’ to merit or permit their contact. This learning tool is useful in its place and time. Your learning is a different mode.

    Self-measurement fixates attention to a single axis. Some of your sources wish to play with you. We do not disappear.

    • Birch

      That is very profound Inga, where are those messages from, ? A lot of depth to that! I am certainly needing the touch and connection of the ethereal because this place of grey doesn’t feed any inspiration.

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