(photo courtesy of No Worries Farm January 2008)
The Awe of Tears
Right now, I’m allowing mine to gently pool and spill.
My tears do not reflect a particular sadness or joy. Instead, they are surfacing likely because of many sadnesses and joys.
What’s undoubtedly surfacing right now though, is knowing that 9 years ago tomorrow, Aria was diagnosed with cancer. Everything changed that day. I wonder if you can fathom that. Everything.
Known routines. Shifted.
Hopes and dreams. Gone.
Spiritual practice. A necessity.
Relationships. Lost and gained.
God. Real-Eyes’d (thank you Jeff Brown)
Surrender. Fully experienced.
Death. A constant companion.
9 years ago tomorrow, the landscape that was my life, dribbled like watered down paint weeping on a canvas. Puddle’d muddy brown mixed with many tears, it would be years before I began to make a life with color again.
3 years I held her away from me over the drooling mouth of death.
3 years Death’s incessant presence reminded me that it dictated everything; how I breathed, how I slept, how I loved.
3 years I watched children ripped from the arms of their parents.
3 years I watched parents fall into death with their children.
3 years I watched parents reach an accord with death—a mysterious partnership that I never wanted to know.
Aria is 13 years old now. She is brilliant, athletic, wise and alive.
I no longer hope. I don’t need to.
I dream bigger than ever.
Prayer is the way I walk.
Food is a quirky addiction.
My spiritual practice has deepened and improved every facet of my being.
My relationships are priceless. I love deeper and better.
Money is measured in all sorts of abundance.
Faith is mercifully gone!
Goddess knows Her place.
Trust is how I breathe.
Surrender is in my smile.
Death remains a constant companion.
9 years ago everything changed. I cry over what was lost. I cry over what was gained.
I purify myself through the awe of tears.