Friday, January 24, 2014

Loss, Grieving, Wandering

Taylor lost his daddy six months ago.  I lost my best friend and Taylor's other parent.  Taylor stopped saying words on the day Joe died.  I still say words but they seem meaningless most of the time. My boy and I are wandering in the desert looking for what went missing.
   Today I knew that it was time to write again.  I heard myself say, "Just put something down.  Start.  Just begin."
So here I am ....back again. The old me but the new me.  The me that feels like a piece of corn that has had its husk stripped/ripped off.  Shucked corn---with silky fibers still stuck in the kernels---all messy.  I think some people say things like, "She's a hot mess. Do hot messes grieve and fall to their knees in the darkest part of the night?  How does loss carve such a deep trench in our hearts?
      I used to think I was a pretty good mom.  Now I am not so sure. My compass for leading Taylor is all whacked out.  The true north magnet is going hay-wire. Wavering off course.  And I feel guilty about it.  That's irrational---but yes, guilty.
      Where is the promise?  Remind me about  the promise? It is hard to be so vulnerable.  I liked having my mask--my husk.  It was safer that way.
Way down deep in my tiny little cells lives hope.  Who in the heck knows how hope got planted inside of me---but it did and IS.  I just need  hope's flame to stay lit.
I pray for a kind wind to breathe gently into the lungs of our hope.
 And for Taylor to find his words again.
 Wind and words.
  Those are my healing prayers.