“My heart is drenched in wine, you will be on my mind forever” Norah Jones
Loss. It is all-consuming. We see it all around us. The media is filled with its images and the Haiti earthquake is a painful reminder to us all that loss can strike at any moment. When loss hits close to home, it cuts deep, leaving us with a sense that it will be with us forever. But the point is that we are not meant to escape from its heartbreaking grip. We are meant to work through our pain and loss, because it is through loss that the most incredible opportunities for growth and renewal occur.
I recently experienced a profound loss when my husband succumbed to a two-year battle with cancer. He was my whole world – my anchor, my muse, my best friend. His illness came shortly on the heals of the death of my father, who also died of cancer.
Up until that point in my life, I hadn’t experienced major loss. In some way, I think I always felt its insidious presence lurking around the corner, waiting for me, for my turn. And, the impending sense of loss I felt was accompanied, as it so often is, with its sinister partner – fear.
Fear is a powerful emotion that can be such a limiting factor in our lives. I remember the day I was married. It was one of the most beautiful and happy days of my life, but I was plagued with worry about losing my beloved at some point in the future. One could say that this was a sort of premonition. Instead, I think this foreboding sense was a combination off attachment and a deeper knowing that loss eventually catches up with us all.
Like aging, loss is something we can’t escape. All of us eventually experience different types of loss throughout our lives, both small and large. Knowing this, we try to protect ourselves. I see this in the eyes of people around me. They look at me and my situation with compassion, but behind that compassion I see fear, fear that this too could happen to them. I understand this, as I have felt the same way. Maybe some of you feel it too when you see the devastation and loss in Haiti and think, “But by the grace of God, there go I”?
What I have learned from my journey with loss and what my husband taught me throughout his courageous battle is instead, “By the grace of God, there go I”.
It is through loss and often profound loss that we crack open to the most incredible gifts of our lives, especially the gift of regeneration. This is not a new concept. Our symbols and myths abound with this metaphor – the phoenix, the chrysalis stage of the butterfly and the saying “every cloud has a silver lining”.
If this is such an age-old truth, why is it so hard for us to accept? Why is it that we prefer to wrap ourselves in limiting fear, rather than embracing loss as the necessary transformational fire for renewal? Is it because we hold the illusion that somehow if we are good enough or smart enough, we can avoid pain in our lives?
In a bereavement support group that I attended, one of the members displayed discomfort with the pain we were sharing and reflected what many of us were thinking when he said, “We aren’t going to sit around a cry each meeting are we?”. The moderator gently said that we have to face our grief head on and work through it.
Only by working through our pain can we experience the gifts of renewal. By delving into our pain, we get to know our true selves. By working through my pain and opening up to hope for a new future, my loss has given way to new insight, opportunities for building new relationships and renewing old ones and for changing old patterns. The most important opportunity has been to review my life and its purpose, and to make changes for the better.
I have swapped long hours in the corporate boardroom for contemplation time in the woods and on a yoga mat. I have decided to work less, but to work better. That means more time for myself and my children, and more focus on work that is meaningful and gives me a sense of purpose.
While the loss of my precious husband has been heartbreakingly painful, it has also brought me back on track with my life’s purpose. For that, I am grateful. I feel like my previous life was equivalent to a caterpillar stage, a beautiful caterpillar that I loved dearly. But, now I am in the chrysalis stage of my life’s journey. I am mired deep in a transformative soup, not sure what the end result will look like. But, like the caterpillar, I don’t question why I am at this stage. I trust it is an important part of my evolution toward an awesome new life as a butterfly!
As I reflect on this loss and renewal process, I am struck with compassion and grief, but also with hope for the people of Haiti. I am hopeful that this terrible crisis will act as a much-needed catalyst for the world to help the country and its people rise up from the ashes and create a new, stronger and sustainable future.
“As strong as you were, tender you go
I’m watching you breathing, for the last time
A song for your heart, but when it is quiet
I know what it means and I’ll carry you home,
I’ll carry you home.” James Blunt
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This feels like a calm, open space full of potential-
Thanks Carolyn. I hope you come back. Now, if only I could figure out how to get the RSS feed working, that would make it easier.