Tag Archives: Mother’s grief

One With the Forest

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House sitting in the land of lakes, rivers and forests-  the midlands of Ireland, I find myself in a magical setting; quickly becoming my favourite place to take my new canine friend for a walk. It is like an enchanted forest that you would read about in a fairy tale. Mushrooms of all sizes, red berries and leaves carpeting the trails winding up and down hills and around moss covered trees with rays of light filtering down through a full canopy of tree tops. Holly trees, hawthorne trees dispersed throughout…absolutely lovely. Babbling brooks appearing out of no where, trickling sound intercepting the hush of the forest. Balancing on a birch branch to cross the stream I fully expected a leprechaun to pop out from behind a tree.

There is an Irish myth that hawthorne trees are the entrance to the fairy world. Traditionally no one cuts the lone hawthorn tree as this is the meeting place of the fairies. It is also believed they bring good luck to the owner and prosperity to the land where it stands. Even today many farmers/land owners  will not cut them down, they will work around it. Roads have even been diverted to avoid cutting one down. I was reading how in 1999 work was interrupted on the main road from Limerick to Galway because a fairy tree stood in its path. The road had to be rerouted and construction was delayed for 10 years.

Spending time in this forest elevated my state of mind. Never anyone else here. I felt very privileged to be here within the workings of this special place. Even the walk here was invigorating with a constant feed of bright green fields. Donkeys, cows, sheep, horses dotted about. My canine friend loved these woods; the freedom off the leash, dashing about, so many smells to check out as we made our way on the trails, at times incredibly steep as we wound down through a mass of gnarled moss covered trees. Safe in the bowels of the forest I began to hear its voice. My heart rose to listen. Feasting my eyes on this wondrous sight around me was so surreal. How is it that I am here? In my life ‘ before ‘ this never would have happened nor could I imagine there was such a place. It lands with a heavy thud in the deepest part of my stomach as to why I am here. This keeps happening. This thud. Like a curve ball; enormous power and velocity behind it. My gut catching it. It knocks your breath away, challenges your balance, your stamina to stay upright. Bile rising upwards. The deep pain of yearning for your child. Ready to surrender to it, feeling beaten, a surge, hard to describe, like a surge of life, rose up through me. A lifting energy. Expansive. Insightful. Revealing the delicate intricacy of the forest. I felt part of every living thing and every living thing was part of me. My vision was enhanced. A single red hawthorne berry appeared so vivid, crystal clear. Blades of grass seemed to pop out. The rest of the forest further away. Sort of like a child’s pop up book. Each individual blade of grass so precise. Each one unique. My senses were sharp. In this heightened state of awareness everything felt like it was supposed to feel, I was supposed to be here, I was in the right place, on the right path. At that moment I felt that everything was ok. I felt peace. The fear of my new life went underground.

A foggy light settled in. Oddly comforting. I felt a connection to this; a familiarity. An overwhelming sense of love and strength swirled in this energy. I felt joy as it filled me. Closing my eyes, relishing the harmony with it all, my mind’s eye saw Jason’s face; very still, angelic, innocent. Trying to reach him, tears gently running down my face, a wind picked up and went over my arms and lightly blew leaves around me. Hardly breathing, I looked around, it appeared that the wind was only swirling around me. I spoke to Jason from deep within my heart and soul. No voice. Remaining calm and still. Then the gentle caressing wind slowly subsided and disappeared. Feeling hope, lighter, changed, trying to ignore the logical chatter from my reasoning brain I slowly navigated my way back up the hill dodging the roots and rocks on this rugged path. An onset of exhaustion with a feeling of pressure in my chest caused me to stop. There was a real pain in my chest wall like someone had pried it apart leaving it jagged and sore, vulnerable with no bandage to protect it. With the cracks exposed, the first light was now able to get in.

This experience was a gift. One of several spiritual experiences I have had while here in Ireland. This land has nourished my soul and supported me while I try to absorb, to endure this horrid pain which is always lying just beneath the surface. My intuition was right to guide me here, out from under the suffocating oppresssion of my home, to give me a space to reinvent my self after losing my identity. A safe space to be with my feelings, to work through them on my own terms rather than the pressure to respond to others’ expectations. With my heart hiding my grief and my smile covering my anguish I am slowly relearning my world.

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Meeting the Irish Sea for the first time.

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I still wasn’t sure that we were at the right place. The sign indicated that we were but I was expecting a large paved parking lot certainly with more activity. This was a small dirt one with one lone car. This place, Curracloe Beach, apparently was one of the best beaches on the Irish coast made famous by starring in the opening scenes of Saving Private Ryan. My canine friend Jumble was beginning to stir so I really hoped that the sign was correct. I had been lost driving up and over hills for what seemed like ages.  Meandering on winding roads like I had never experienced before. Little did I know at that time that I had yet to learn the true meaning of ‘winding’ . Such beautiful countryside. Stunning views of rich green rolling hills, some fields appearing almost florescent under the rays of sunlight. Narrow roads dipping in and out of valleys, stone bridges barely wide enough for one car, sometimes a cluster of houses at the bottom of the hill with maybe a small postoffice and shop all in one. No one else on the road just Jumble and I ambling along. Cows and sheep- grey stone walls separating the fields into neat and tidy squares. Tall hedgerows and moss covered stone walls lining the roads making it impossible to see if anything was approaching me around the sharp bends. Constantly saying to myself “ stay on the left, stay on the left…” sitting behind the steering wheel on the right side, changing gears with my left hand. Being cautious on a blind corner, the road now looking more like a track, a huge tractor suddenly appeared towing a wagon overflowing with the largest brightest orange carrots, coming almost on top of me as he urgently applied his brakes. This explains the splattered bits of orange I had seen farther back. In the top part of his cab door there is a shattered hole in the glass about the size of a fist or a large rock. I pull over as far as I could and he the same. He looked more surprised than I felt. In fact he looked shocked! Especially when I excitedly tried to explain that I was from Canada, I am house sitting and looking after Jumble and we are lost. He peered into the back of the car trying to size up what was in front of him. It probably looked as if Jumble was drugged. There he was curled up in his bed snoring away oblivious to it all. I explained that he was deaf and this was his nap time. A big smile beamed across his weathered face. I told him that I was trying to get to Curracloe beach to take Jumble for a walk. Speaking to me through the hole he gave me directions interjected with telling me where I had gone wrong. In a speedy thick Irish accent- Go to the very end of this road, turn left not right, go over the bridge, keep straight past the pub then take the second road on the right, the one with green grass running down the middle of it, that’s the road, then go through Bally…., don’t take the turn to Bally…….everything seemed to start with Bally. I must have looked dazed as he repeated it all again. Embarrassed I nodded as if I had understood it all but really he had lost me before the first Bally… With a tip of his hat, a huge smile, he wished me a good stay in Ireland. I thanked him very much, and with a wave out of my window, a honk of my horn I set off pretending I knew exactly where I was going.

Soon after passing the pub the scenery began to change. I had passed a sign for Ballyvaldon. This rang a bell from the farmer’s directions. Grazing fields were becoming moss covered dense forests. Varieties of huge mature leafy trees reached out over the road to embrace each other forming a canopy. Like I was driving into a green tunnel. Popping out of one tunnel and into another. Dappled shade and bright light giving a strobe light effect. My stomach fell before I knew what was happening. Protective routine kicked in. Seizure!! This could trigger one. Automatatic reflex. My hand flies over to steady him, I look over to the passenger seat…the urgency to make sure Jason was ok took over before my brain sorted out that No! Jason is not here. I am in Ireland, stomach and heart meeting with such force, Jason has died. The loss of Jason, the loss of everything I knew ‘ before’ , came at me with such speed. Like an electric shock hitting me. Suspended. Bandages fall off revealing the gaping wounds raw oozing.

A small black and white road sign distracted me. Eyes squinting, CURRACLOE BEACH with an arrow is barely readable in cracked faded paint. Relieved that I must be close even though part of me was questioning it since I still had not seen the sea, only forest, I pulled in and parked. Lifting  Jumble out of the car,  clipping on his lead , there it was. Riding on the wind was the smell…incredibly fresh and clean, sort of tangy, the smell sparked something inside of me. It’s the sea !! Jumble sensing the same grew excited. We set off for the forest, both of us a spring in our step. An assortment of trails lay ahead, some straight on, some off to the right, some off to the left. Others, narrower ones, zig zagged through the trees. Taking the path to the left, the one with more footprints, my feet soon began to sink slightly, soil was turning into sand! We were heading in the right direction. My heart quickened. A roaring sound. Suspense. Straining to hear. Waves? Or was it the wind? Still no sign of the sea. Nearing the edge of the forest my heart lept at the sight before my eyes. Sprawled out in front of us were dunes covered in long grasses swaying to and fro as if waving to say hello. Climbing the paths weaving through the grasses, up and over several dunes, stopping often for Jumble to smell the various scents, there at the very top on the other side was this infinite beach spread out for all it’s glory. So vast. Beautiful sand and dunes running as far as I could see. Totally unspoilt. Magnificent. Hardly a soul in sight. Mountains in the background to my left and a distant ship and peninsular jutting out to my right. Off came the shoes, the feel of the sand between my toes, the cold Irish sea under and over my feet swirling around my ankles. Heavy mist and wind whipping around my face and hair. Incredibly surreal and emotional that here I was, the country of my roots, my heritage, Jumble and I standing in the Irish sea. So sad and heavy as to why and how I had arrived here. But yet it felt right somehow; this is where I have been brought to. A safe place. The ebb and flow of the waves. The ebb and flow of my breath. In harmony. Rhythm so soothing. Firm sand so solid, supportive against the soles of my feet- the sensation of the ripples formed in the sand as the balls of my feet rolled off them. All sensations were alive. Life was alive right now. The constant faint nausea had gone. The power of the waves rolling and then crashing, the foam sweeping in all around us. Jumble brushing up against my legs, looking up at me. Content. His soulful clouded eyes saying it all. I was totally present in this moment. No thoughts. No words.

In that space I was one with the universe. In tune. A raised energy. No fear. No turmoil. No separation. Peace. Ease. Clarity. One with the sea, the sky, the sand… the big picture.

A familiar sound grabs my attention. Hoofs! The rhythmic beat of hoofs in a canter. I swing around. Two riders poised out of the saddle on very fit thoroughbreds cantering effortlessly in the deep sand, snorting, foaming, as they passed us; impatiently waiting to be given the reins, wide eyes anticipating the cue. I could feel the excitement. Once they had got past the people the horses accelerated at such speed, blurred images in the distant mist, and then were gone.

Heading back to the car before Jumble started to tire I was aware of my state. I felt lighter, invigorated. My exposed wound cleansed, healthier. With a new soft bandage tenderly placed over it we made our way home.

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A special place, a special friend.

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Clock approaching 7pm, sitting at the table by the window, eyes pulling in my new surroundings- an intimate stone courtyard with imposing outer walls I got thinking, wondering, what these walls have seen over the centuries. Ceramic pots different colours different sizes, lavender,lemon balm, sweet pea, pansies,…. So many, some bursting with colour and some in their dormant stage but all so lush and thriving. Growing season was well over at home. Must be the perfect combination this mild climate some rain, some sun, some rain……Such a strong feel to the house, so grand but yet feels inviting. When the owners are home this impressive Irish country house operates as an award winning bed and breakfast. Five nights ago sitting in my bedroom on the farm in Canada now I sit here. So surreal. It is quiet and isolating in the back quarters. Not isolating in a negative way as I was now in a place, a new land, that was neutral and this gave me a sense of ease. A sense of space. Intake of air noticeably easier.

Bright colours of yellow and red peppers amongst my plate of rice grab my attention. I had noticed that the constant nauseous churning in my stomach had calmed down a little. Hoping to feel an activation of my appetite, I invite the garlic and ginger odour to wander up my nose stimulating the olfactory. I pick up my fork and with foreign enthusiasm skewer a piece each of red and yellow pepper, piece of onion and then push some rice up onto the order. As I bring it towards my mouth I find myself anticipating the taste, I feel my digestive juices stir. My new canine friend is lying by my feet snoring. What a lovely old dog. An innocence about him. He is deaf and his sight is failing, sometimes quite wobbly but manages well with help and is quickly learning to trust me. He is on various meds so I hope he stays well on my watch. It is strange almost like it was meant to be that I would be with Jumble my first time away from home. Maybe I was reading too much into it but there was something very familiar and somewhat settling. I realized what it was- Jumble’s issues were some of Jasons; hearing, sight, balance. Jumble needed my guidance and care, like Jason. My attention and ear was always on him just like it was with Jason. There was something very special about this dog. We bonded very quickly. We were good for each other. He loved our walks through the fields. Fields of different colours sloping down to the River Slaney. Inhaling it in was nourishing. The air so fresh. The house is huge with very high ceilings and lots of rooms with such character. Not pretentious at all….very comfortable and as cozy as a huge house could be. Some rooms are more grander than others but still inviting. Huge kitchen . A very impressive grand stairway that you see first thing when you enter the front reception. Quite an opportunity to be living here. I feel sort of like the lady of this huge manor and grounds. Only a fleeting thought – I am the help. The garden area is huge…plants everywhere…pots..pots and more pots!!! A typical wild sprawling English type garden with little paths leading in every direction. Fruit trees laden with fruit. Raspberries ready to be picked. An enormous mulberry tree which I had never seen before that is thick with berries. Various lettuces, tomatoes, herbs in the garden. A greenhouse laden with plants. Lots to keep me busy.

I returned to take care of Jumble and his home on three separate occasions. Jumble had made a home in my heart. I travelled miles to come and care for him. The owner would tell me how he would look for me, depressed and unsettled after I was gone. When I would return although deaf and almost blind at my last visit he would know me right away whimpering pressing his head against me as I knelt down to him. On my second return to Jumble an amazing thing happened…a beautiful butterfly landed on my hand as we were coming into the house, returning from a walk. It just sat there. Not in any hurry to go. My heart was going crazy. Could this be? a sign? I walked back to my quarters at the back of the house, butterfly still on my hand, praying it wouldn’t fly off in the house, grabbed my camera, walked back through the corridors to the front doorway. It still just sat there. Worried that it was injured I encouraged it to fly. It left my hand but still fluttered around me. Eventually flying off. This took my breath away. This incredible feeling stayed with me for days and can easily be recalled. Just like the first time I headed into the nearby town. Newly arriving in Ireland, sitting in St.Aidan’s Cathedral, feeling vulnerable, heavy hearted, a yearning to know that Jason was ok, a beam of sun light came through the skylight right onto me. I know that it was because the sun came out and I happened to be sitting in the right place but I got this feeling that it was more than that. I am not a religious person but since Jason’s experience in an ottawa church I remain open. I could feel the warmth and comfort in that beam of light- made me feel safe for that moment. Sitting in this beautiful church, candle lit for Jason, candle lit for my brother Conor, watching the flames flickering I felt some peace. The beam of light came and went several times like someone at the controls of a large spotlight. The second time I was in this ray I heard a voice. Raising my bowed head, coming past me was the priest with a very warm optimistic ” Hello! “, smiling at me as if he knew me. I smiled back at him ” Hello “. A really nice uplifting simple exchange. With my heart feeling lighter I left. Heading back towards the centre of town, climbing one steep street after another I encountered many friendly greetings from strangers. I was wondering did I look so obviously lost in every sense of the word. I felt so welcomed. Upon paying the friendly parking attendant, red cheeked and a little out of breath, I commented on how people here must be in great shape walking these steep hills. He replied “Aye! That or nearly dead.” A twinkle in his eye. A laugh burst out of my mouth . As I waited for the bar to lift, his face poked out of the little window, “God bless. Be well.”

I felt in the right place.

 

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Intuition – Voice of the soul

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A restorative yoga pose called child’s pose has become my płace of refuge. Many hours spent here. The body intuitively wants to turn away from the world. Folding down over the knees. Upper body resting on the thighs. Forehead coming to rest on the floor. Eyes closed. Arms down by my side. Sometimes soothing, sometimes not. If the monster is sleeping, my mind quiet and still enough, I hear my own words that I would tell Jason at difficult times. I knew that I should act on them, try to find the energy to get myself together, back to the yoga studio. I had stopped going. I had become so weary from forces at home. Expectations of one another broke the few remaining frayed threads of marriage. Common words to Kelsey “ I’ll be fine love “ were becoming less convincing. The day Kelsey came home to find me curled up on my bedroom floor, unable to get up, unable to pull out of it for her, was a horrible moment for me. I felt weak and defeated. I didn’t want Kelsey to see me this way. I didn’t want her to worry over me. I needed her to concentrate on trying to figure things out for herself, to look after herself, both of the girls, to learn how to live in their changed world..a world without their brother. She lay down on the floor beside me. Holding onto each other looking into Kelsey’s worried face I felt such an immense surge of love and fight for her; for all my children. I knew right there and then that I had to change my circumstance, change my crippling surroundings if not for myself but for them. I could only imagine how difficult it was for them. Everything had changed. Even how they saw me was foreign to them. For the first  time in their lives they saw their Mom on her own. This is not how it is. This is not Mom. Where is J …it is always Mom and J. This was their only view of me. A huge shift in their world.

” A family is like a body. When a family loses a loved one, it is as if they have lost one of their limbs.”

After this experience I began to feel a strange sensation. A presense of something unexplainable. This feeling began to radiate throughout me. Communicating to me from somewhere deep. No conscious thought or reasoning. It was a clear, honest, organic, full-on sensation telling me that I would not physically survive another bleak winter and beyond in these barns and the house. A visual intuition of me slumped in a corner of the barn or my room appeared. I would expire, cease to exist through some sort of natural occurrence. I don’t know how, but I felt it. Not self-inflicted. Just fade away. I had never felt a feeling of certainty like this. It was as if every cell in my body already knew this before I did and was trying to communicate this knowledge to me. A gentle nudge. A whisper.

The repetitive daily tasks of going from the barns to the house was killing me. Trying to keep my gaze looking down so I wouldn’t have to see the lifeless sad window, no face, no wave. Knowing what I have to open the door to. No life. Rooms that held my family are now filled with profound sadness. When in the barn working, I still have the feeling of such urgency, my ears still on full alert listening for Jason until my brain remembers that Jason has died. Dimness. The house makes a sudden sound, a seizure, I am running to it when the weight of the world comes crashing down upon the sudden realization that it can’t be Jason – he has died. I just knew that I could not continue this way, my body would not continue if I didn’t self-care. I did not want my girls to find me expired, slumped in a corner in the barn or my room. This premonition strangely wasn’t alarming. The feeling felt calm, solid, expansive. When in conscious thought I was very distressed about leaving my daughters. To be far away from them was going to be hard. Thankfully both girls have amazingly supportive boyfriends that have been there for them all along and knowing that these exceptional men love my daughters…makes it possible.

Six months later with an opening in the storm I made the jump. Blindfolded, numb, into the arms of the universe. Taking me far away from anything familiar; the constant triggers. Trusting the soul. Deciding to survive. The heart’s gaping wound well bandaged and protected. Praying no one will bump into it. Leaving who mattered to me…no words. We were all so brave saying ” Goodbye ” to one another. A supportive friend said “Spread your wings Fiona. Fly! ” I was literally throwing myself to the universe and seeing where I would land. Surrender to the universe, trust it, and see what happens. It is the only choice I have. With my children planted in my heart, knapsack on my back, purse strewn across my chest I crossed the gap between ramp and plane and headed to my seat.

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The Physical Affects of Grief

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Walking towards the barn my peripheral vision picks up the colour purple. I stop- my clematis is covered in purple blooms- how and when did that happen? Green grass. When did snow become grass? A surge of fear. Where have I been? Life just keeps going- birds building nests, flowers producing buds, everything in nature continuing as in previous years whereas life halted for me. When seeing the purple flowers I am aware that I am being pulled along.

When I venture out in public it shocks me. How is it that people are driving around, walking together, having a coffee, laughing with a friend- don’t they know what has happened? When in a grocery store I find myself searching for someone that has the same look on their face, a reflection of how I feel, just someone who knows, to not feel so all alone, another Mother…I know we would recognize each other. To silently acknowledge the grief and struggle… for them to say in their eyes “I know”.

Driving home, feeling small, Jason’s seat empty, I pull up behind a vehicle with smiling family decals on their back window. So many vehicles have them now. I don’t remember seeing so many before. There is a row of decals in the order of Mom, Dad, Boy, Boy, Girl, Cat, Dog. I thought how awful if one of their children die then what do you do? It would be torture trying to remove your deceased child’s decal- then there would be a space and you would have to move everyone over. Or would you take them all off or would you leave them as they are but then some stranger might say “Oh I see you have 2 boys and a girl, how old are they?” and then what? Either way it would be very sad and painful. Of course nobody thinks that the unimaginable will happen to them.

There is a sheer curtain seperating myself from this unknown world that I am now forced to live in. Feel incredibly misplaced. About six months after Jason died I told my Dr that I wanted to help people, maybe work for an organization such as Drs without borders. This seems so ridiculous now. Even my surroundings one year on still appear foreign and far away. Early this morning while working outside  I saw all from above- it was the strangest sensation. It was as if I was out of my body looking down upon myself, this tired looking person buckling under the weight of her grief and fear, trudging in and out of the barns and across the paddocks stepping on the same footprints that she put there yesterday and the day before and the day before that…..The same routine but internally always changing. I see this person struggling physically-walking slipping trying to keep her legs underneath her while leading 1100 lb animals through snow and over ice. Pushing and pulling the wheelbarrow steeped with manure through the drifted snow. Her upper body pitched forward, lower torso trailing, carrying bags of shavings, bales of hay. No one else, just her. I felt defeated and alone after this experience and it became clear to me that I could not do the horse boarding business any longer.

Back in the house, lemon juice falling onto a fresh cut on my thumb felt oddly satisfying. The sting made me feel alive. Grounded me for that moment.

I am startled by how grief has rampaged through my physical body. Catching a glimpse of myself in a mirror I don’t totally recognize the person looking back at me. Pale, thin, more lines, a downward curve of my mouth. Protruding collarbones catch my eye; where did they come from? People have told me that I am looking so much better which makes me think how ill and gaunt I must have looked before. My eyes look different. Almost like the hazel colour has disappeared. No expression. Dull. Despite adequate nutrition there is a persistent loss of weight and muscle. Upon receiving massage therapy for an onset of sciatica the therapist was astonished at the state of my muscle fibres. Like they have been rearranged. The muscles have a popping, bubbling sensation. Explaining the physical exertion in my job I could tell from her voice that she suspected there was more going on. Lying face down my heart started pounding. I watched the tears start to fall from the horseshoe shaped head support down to the floor. My body began to tremble. I was done for. Now sitting up, nursing a cup of herbal tea, tissue box on my knees, I told her what was going on with me. Being a mother herself she couldn’t imagine. She told me ” grief is physically demanding and can really take a toll on the body and that my body, my nervous system, is in a state of chronic stress and has been for many years. The death of my son has now put my body into a state of collapse. Don’t ignore what your body is trying to tell you.” This became clear to me when one morning I woke up and couldn’t lift the front of my foot. When trying to walk  the toes dragged, it was impossible to stand on my heel. The only way I could walk was to lift my knee up higher. This frightened me and how was I going to do my job? A diagnosis of Foot Drop was made. Thankfully my gait eventually recovered but I was beginning to understand what the massage therapist had told me. This was my body’s  voice and I needed to listen carefully.

Strange things began happening to my eyes. I truly felt that every part of me was weeping so I wasn’t concerned when a tear drop shape slid back and forth across the darkness behind my eye-much like a bright plump rain drop sliding across a window. It was like I was crying inside. While outside at night filling the horse’s water troughs I kept seeing intermittent flashes of light out of the corner of my eye which disappeared as I quickly turned my head. I had myself convinced that this was Jason trying to communicate with me. Weeks later I mentioned this to my Dr. and she suggested going to an ophthalmologist. Turns out it wasn’t Jason, I had a serious problem. The raindrop shapes were called floaters and they were crossing over my retina. The flashing lights were possibly from a tear (rip) in my retina. The next thing I was at the Eye Institute where I received emergency surgery for three retina tears (rips) and the starting of a retina detachment. I had never had any of these concerns before and now I sat in the very same chair in the very same office where Jason had sat for his last eye examination. I was overwhelmed. Shattered. Flooded with grief. The strength and spirit of Jason was with me as I quietly went into the surgical room.

Upon reading the following excerpt from a book by Deepak Chopra I realised that my physical body is actually grieving, suffering; it wasn’t just a sense of heavy pain running through tissue and cells that I was experiencing. If I was going to get through this dark tunnel I was stuck in I needed to tend to my physical suffering. This is my home, body and mind- all one. The body was communicating this to me. I needed to pay attention to its needs, to slow down, to be gentle to it.

” Grief is like depression but even more cold and numbing. The body can feel so heavy and and listless that the person feels dead while they’re still alive. Massive physical disruptions, toxic chemical changes happen right away. Stress, weakness,and decreased functioning will spread from organ to organ. Grief is a state of distorted energy that can last for years. Can make you susceptible to disease. This distortion of energy if allowed to grow can cause incoherence everywhere and if this seed of disruption is allowed to grow the energy of the whole body will break down. “

 

 

 

A Mother’s Grief

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There are no words. No mother, no human being, should ever have to lay eyes upon their dead child. The need to be with my son, to help him, to make sure he was ok, was overwhelming. A complete rupture to my psyche. I was thrust into immobilizing fog with no order, no clarity. The sorrow and trauma across my daughter’s faces shattered my heart. Such fear and worry for them. Our lives forever changed. From the very moment that my brain processed the delivered words “Jason has died”, my world spun right off it’s axis. ‘I’ was no more. The extreme anguish that Jason was alone took me to the very edge. I plummeted to such depths of despair beyond any conscious thought. Beyond grief. Into darkness. Isolated. Amputated. Fear. The death of one’s child is a prison. No escape.

Crippled by a feeling of insanity, my mind desperately clung to familiar sounds: the squeaking and crunching of snow under my boots; the grinding and scraping of cleats meeting the lurking ice; the rustling and swishing of snow pants as my legs mysteriously carried me towards the barn. Upon recognizing these sounds there was a moment of self-awareness bringing me temporarily out of the distorted and detached realm that I now existed in. I was no longer part of this world. Feeling as if I was a visitor stuck in between planes of life hovering above the earth. Alone, stripped, raw, soul searching for soul.

Swish-right, swish-left. I see my feet and legs moving beneath me, disappearing and then reappearing, but yet I don’t feel them. The sense is that they are not attached to me. Frightening. I know that I am walking, I see my boot prints. I feel like I am going crazy. Dragging my body from my bed to the barns where daunting chores awaited me, seemed unattainable. Such fatigue. I felt like I was encased in cement. I can’t survive one more second; the second somehow passes. Then it hits, the shocking jolt revisits with such force and speed landing right into the pit of my stomach. A mournful sound comes up my throat. Stomach queasy, mind spinning. Soul-deep yearning. Searing sorrow. My body halts half way to the barns. I don’t feel well. My legs are weak. I am lightheaded. A huge wave of sadness crescendos; I can’t breathe, I am choking, I can’t swallow. There is a huge lump blocking my throat. The weight on my back now getting heavier crushing and caving my chest in. Fainting felt eminent. I knew it would be unsafe in this -32C temperature but part of me was willing to fall into the bleak hands of winter. Thinking of my girls made me fight. Reaching deep, I stood up tall and thrust my chin up to the sky enabling me to finally swallow and breathe.

Upon reaching the barn I set my sight on the hog wire partition. Fighting against a collapse I wrapped my heavily gloved hands securely around the metal bars and let my body go limp. A persistent agonizing ache ran through my legs, arms, chest, back, ribs, teeth, face, like a bad flu. Somehow I eventually was able to summon up just enough energy to perform the next task at hand.

Slowly walking back, looking towards the house, everything started to spin. I became sick to my stomach. No sign of any life. No face at the window. Everything grey. I open the door. One foot in. Empty. Silent. No Jason. A primal guttural sound breaks the silence as I fall to my knees.

Nothing could give me the slightest relief from this raging pain and sorrow until the day I lay down on a yoga mat.