I admit to being lost in my own writings tonight. I’ve been away from my WordPress community for so long and yet, tonight, I needed the comfort of reading my own memories. Funny how grief catches up with you when you least expect it. Our community lost two young ones and a third is struggling in the wake of two car accidents between last night and this morning.
Ex-Hubby is who was called to investigate.
Child-Unit is the student of one who now walks the path of grief.
And I, knowing full well that nothing I say, do or offer in way of assistance to those who struggle with their unexpected losses can ease the pain in their hearts at this moment in time. So here I sit, reading and musing over my own journey – saddened at what sorrows and burdens those affected will carry tonight and for some time to come.
I know to the depths of my soul and the tiniest molecules of my cells, these journeys are not a total loss or waste of time. My own journey has bestowed so many gifts, as will theirs – but I also know how hard it is to recognize and embrace those gifts in the early days. I yearn to reach out, to offer some consolation, understanding that what we have to offer at these times is often so insignificant against the pain that rages.
And so, now you know why I sit in front of a glowing monitor, not catching up on your world, rather revisiting mine…
I ponder if there will ever come a day where I can act and speak with compassion to those who recently lost and resist the pulling into a reliving of my own. To be sure, the pain is less with each visit and I no longer feel knocked assunder when these things occur.
I sometimes wonder if our own hurts ever heal enough to not be torn open in empathetic solidarity when we witness the losses of others.
Perhaps it is good that we are wired this way. Maybe, this is not a flaw to be healed, rather a gift to be embraced and understood.
A gift that guides us to just the right words and acts of service – a wisdom only to be borne in a broken heart that understands.
Reaching the end of my memory wanderings and mental ponders, I realize that gift, alone, is reason enough to wait for the shadow to draw abreast – and listen as it speaks.