I was getting annoyed with my neighbor.
I’d invite him to visit ,
then get cynical/argumentative.
What was going on?
Another friend sat with me.
She listened as I put the question
out there…waiting.
The answer came,
“He’s not Joseph.”
The tears followed.
It wasn’t the Presence I knew
the Presence I expected
the Presence I so loved.
I keep discovering ways I miss him
Even as I feel him with me
go figure…
‘cause I can’t.
P.S. This isn’t about my neighbor whom I truly like. It’s just what happened. I continue to allow the feelings to flow through me the best I can, trusting that it is as it should be. Being willing to see, to feel in the moment, even when it’s uncomfortable, embarrassing, is to me being here now. It allows me to release the thoughts/emotions so I can come closer to touching the silence within. So be it.
Hi Barb, are you in any kind of support group? I found it to be extremely helpful after my husband transitioned.
Joy
I greatly admire your courage, Barbara, especially your willingness to feel what you feel without restricting yourself. That same openness to what is also lets in the light and joy without effort. Your written journal chronicling your grief & loss is a tremendous gift to all of us. I wish I had been able to do that when Mike was diagnosed with prostate cancer several years ago.
Sit where he sat. Say what he would say. Do what he would want you to do. Or don’t do. The memories are getting transferred out there as images and expectations, not to be confused with what is present or what is Presence. The anger is part of the grief, you know that. Nothing anyone can do or say will diminish it for you. And this loss also triggers all the other unresolved grief stored within your body. The quiet time you need to feel and notice what is coming up within you will be powerful in healing you. I pray God’s everlasting love and tender mercies will be upon you as a crown and that God’s omnipresent love will enlighten your every cell. You are being most fair to Barbara Sliter.
Power and love to you in your journey up the mountain.
Thanks for sharing this, Barbara. A few months after I lost my dearest friend Linda I attended a seminar. In a group discussion, I announced, “Don’t you see that none of this is important. My best friend died.” And I left in the middle of it!
You are right. No one is Him. I’m sorry, Barbara. If I could spare you this grief, I would.
Such great courage… Love you!