Gathering Thoughts

I have felt this grief before; it is as poignant now as it was then. Perhaps all the little bits of grief we taste throughout our lives are meant to temper the soul, to prepare it for the bigger grief that we all must face as time and age take all that we love and all that we are.

It is important to learn to sit with grief, although I'm not sure if that phrasing is correct. I once described grief in a poem as a stone that sits in your soul or like water that bursts forth out of the deep wells of sadness that you feel when you go through loss.

Reflecting back on my last relationship, I realize something: I was able to be myself around him, which was marvelous, a true gift that bolstered my sense of self in many ways. Yet I was also stuck in one version of myself, not letting the other aspects of my personality shine.

When he broke things off, I started to grasp about, wondering what I did wrong. Did I bore him with the couple of subjects I had been going down the rabbit hole on? Did I overwhelm him with the mysterious illness that made me dizzy, tired, and feeling off? All I could do for a couple of months was say, "I'm feeling slightly better today but still dizzy," and feel just a little bit crazy.

I wondered if I had maintained my interest in photography and art, if I had shown him that I could rollerblade and gone on bike rides with him, maybe he would still want to be with me. Or I thought, "What if I change myself to be more interesting?" But then a realization came that I cannot do that; I can only be who and what I am, so I've been doubling down on that.

There is within me a place of rejuvenation that I use when overwhelmed. It requires uninterrupted time to access it, and since we've broken things off, I've been searching it out on my walks with Koru. I put my hand to my heart and let the feelings come; sometimes the tears come, and the deep sadness of loss overflows, and I sob. Sometimes I feel more peace; I let the knot of tension subside, and I allow myself to just feel whatever I need to feel. There is gratitude for what I had with him and an understanding of his situation. There is also sadness because I love him; we felt so good together, we were good together, and it's hard to reconcile that feeling with the knowledge that we are separated, apart, and all the hopes that I had for that relationship have to be buried in the little graveyard of hopes that lives silently in my soul.

Many dreams are buried there: relationships that didn't turn out, wishes that didn't come true, and nine little babies that were never born. It is a sacred place; I walk reverently through it on occasion, and most of my ghosts no longer hurt or haunt me. I have a feeling that the ghosts of my most recent buried hopes are going to haunt me for a while; they were beautiful and strong hopes. I miss them.