grief opens grief like a window
like a can opener
stirs silt from the bottom
shakes loose parts newly or incompletely mended
rattles around, making noisy messes, reminding me acutely of things that hurt to remember.
As I think about the brilliance lost in Robin William’s heartbreaking choice, I think too about the losses we all share, those who have loved someone who has made this nearly unthinkable decision. And while I am so very sad for Robin, that this felt like the only choice he had left, I am more sad for his family, those who loved him, all of us who felt somehow connected to his wry smile, his tenderness, his humanness. It exposes our collective vulnerability somehow.
After losing a beloved to suicide, 11 years ago this past weekend, I have finally gained solace of a sort during hard work this past year… a hard won healing. Tender always, but a new sense of something like peace, I guess… a still point of understanding I did not have before– before, suicide was simply unthinkable, unimaginable, and my loss, the world’s loss of my beloved, was totally beyond my comprehension.
Now, after experiencing being taken down by anxiety into an underworld of desperation– I understand things I did not understand before.
I sought help, took it, take it, seek it. And thanks to this intervention I have returned home to myself.
But I understand now, desperation, in a way I did not.
I understand just wanting to make the pain stop. And simply not being able to stand it. Feeling lost, taken over, alone.
And I wish for all who feel lost, to reach out, get help, allow help in. Please.
In this moment, I sit with this sadness, with the echos of my own loss, my own grief, and let it (as best I can) move in and through… knowing, after all this time, that it will move like water, downstream, if I allow it to pass through my knowing, my heart, my memories, and not try to hold on for the sake of having something to hold on to.