more thoughts on grief

I went to the Belfast Coop a few days after David died, just for a few apples, and was shocked by what happened there. I walked in the door, a woman I didn't know came running at me, wrapped her arms around me saying sadly "I've been thinking about you so much!" I mumbled a bit about the hard and the sweet of it all. I found my apples and got in line where I was approached by a man I know, but had forgotten had lost his wife 6 yrs or so before I arrived in Belfast 4 1/2 yrs ago. He said "I've wanted to talk with you but I just can't. It's too hard, it's too close." He could hardly look me in the eye. I said "That's ok" but I could tell he wanted something else, a resolution to this pain, perhaps. I wanted to talk with him, share a bit, see if some of the comfort I have felt would be available to him. But not now, it's too close for me too, right now. I paid for my apples, headed for the door, and was face to face with a woman with whom my last conversation had been a painful one. That seemed to be gone for her, but was alive in me. She said "I'm so sorry." and some other things. I mumbled some more about the good in it too, and that seemed to be painful for her to hear. I hadn't been prepared for this, for other people's grieving. I had the thought "I'm not doing this well." I glanced behind me and there was Flic, our Hospice coordinator for the county and our friend. "I'm making this worse," I thought.

Later David's dad Charles told me that in some cultures there is a week-long at home grieving period, and wondered if I wanted to do that. Too late!! And Yes! I also realize that if I had gone out with the awareness that my whole community is grieving, and everyone in their own way, that would have helped. Now I am prepared to breathe, say "mmmm", and "thankyou". This suggestion isn't in the hospice pamphlet, but I think it should be.

Then this poem arrived and it is so fitting, I want to share it with you.

There should be some silence in this place so thought can harvest things it's lately caught. I hope that you will take this as a resting space. A bench provided just before the clearing up ahead.

Rest here, be foolish, not merely lady, gent. Be a little useless for a time. Turn around and chase your tail. Roll on your back, paws up and out. Rub up against me as you pass. My old leg is sturdy and as good a scratching place as yonder tree. Lap the day up in my lap. Inhale the earth. Suck in my breath. And breathe it back to me in ways I have forgotten.

Arms around me these past years have not been commonplace, your comfort passed to me from out there, somewhere - dare we call it outer space, has kept me safe. Your thought embraces better than the memory's triumph over time. I have longed for you, thought up songs for you, missed and mourned you as the times passed past. Here you are. Brought back to me by your wish mixed with mine. Noise cannot touch us here. I will try and make for you the calmest place there is within this loud and getting louder world.

No map to help us find the tranquil flat lands, clearings calm, fields without mean fences. Rolling down the other side of life our compass is the sureness of ourselves. Time may make us rugged, ragged round the edges, but know and understand that love is still the safest place to land.

Rod McKuen, April, 1998