Eclipse

 Like the rest of the world, I kept rushing out to look at the moon last night. Alas my point & click camera couldn't focus on the red moon so I'm missing that picture to complete the set but it was a mesmerizing natural experience. 

In last year's Grieve anthology, there was a wonderful poem about how grief is like a sniper lining up his shot. I thought that was the most accurate image, because for me, it's not the birthdays or events when I feel the pain of loss, because I can steel myself in advance. It's when it hits me out of nowhere and I feel almost as if I've been punched. A little shock along with the pain.

Yesterday was one such day. I was looking at new release books and was surprised to see Ian Rankin had a new Rebus book out because I thought he'd died a few years ago. I then realised, it was actually my dad who had died, and with him, my need to buy him Rankin books for Christmas. 

Grief is sort of like an eclipse. The adjustment you've made to the loss is clouded over. There's a bit of confusion as the pain wells again. The dark hole of absence grows large again.

But you sit with it again and feel the pain. In awhile it slowly returns to the new normal. But until it does, you can't quite shake the sadness. Even years later.

Grief is an echo of love, and I guess in a weird way, it is a celebration of that person. We should always celebrate the love we shared, not focus on the loss that we're left with. That way, our heart returns to full, though it is a natural phenomena to be covered by darkness for awhile. One worth taking notice of, if not necessarily enjoyed. Grief is merely the moments when the pain covers the love and memories, the same love and memories which normally bring happiness and comfort because your heart is full of them. Grief is merely an eclipse of the heart.

Linking with #Ziegeunsdienenhimmel

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UnHappy Christmas

Christmas is not a jolly holiday for everyone. The prospect of being alone when everyone else is talking endlessly about time with family. All the painful emotions of divorce arise again while discussing who has Christmas morning with the kids. There are difficult family dynamics. People you avoid throughout the year and suddenly have to spend a lot of time with, to please other people.  An estranged child noticeably missing from the table.  For many people Christmas is a time for all the family grievances to be aired in passive aggressive and deranged ways. Ho Ho Ho, everyone.

And the one that will get us all in the end, the loss of a parent or loved one. The first Christmas without them we expect to be difficult, only to discover it is painful every Christmas without them. I have noted every December I become angry. Disproportionately angry at sexist remarks or political shenanigans, to the point of rage. Or more realistically, there is an under current of rage building that is waiting for anything to unleash on. Anything but the cause, that my dad died. Grief is a very odd beast.  I am at least aware of it when it begins to brew and once I realise what is coming, I can usually reign it back in, or at least not have a blow up with someone important (over something unimportant).

For me, and grief is different for everyone so there is no right or wrong, I think I have a subconscious stress to the build up of Christmas that dissipates before the actual day. If you are struggling with grief at Christmas, here's what I've learnt. Be aware of your emotions. It may not be sadness that is the driving feeling.

While the loss is painful, celebrate the memories too, the joy and shared moments. It's worth focusing on the feelings you had when you were together - it brings the person back to you. For me it's made those waves of remembrance a nice experience that brings me comfort, rather than the painful feeling of loss.

Remember you carry that person around with you in ways you never imagined. A life well lived leaves a big hole but it lingers quite tangibly with those that loved them, and that presence is still there and guiding you as before.

Time doesn't make loss easier, but how you navigate it can make grief less painful.

May Christmas be full of the joys least expected.

Linking with #Secondonthe2nd and #XmasLinky