Acceptance and Hope

There are many ways to experience loss ...

I continue to question why I have been drawn into the lives/blogs of several young parents who have experienced the heart wrenching loss of a child or spouse. These people are young enough to be my children. I read their words and long to comprehend the emotional roller coaster they are enduring. They are brutally honest about their pain and the words come straight from their broken hearts. It is as if I need to learn something from their experience. To understand a process which I have had little first hand knowledge.

As people who I am close to experience the tragedy of loss in their lives, I still scramble to find the right words. I feel such compassion for what they are going through, yet it is something so foreign to me. I hear the raw pain of grief in the blogs that I have been following and I often wonder ... Have I said enough? Have I said too much? Can these words be misunderstood? Who am I to console someone when I don't know the extent of their pain?

Then I realized that someone doesn't have to die for you to experience grief. I have 'lost' 2 men in my life - the relationships that didn't last 'til death do us part'. You still go through the stages of grief. It's just that the other person is still alive and well ... and carrying on with their own life (and probably grieving in their own way).

I hadn't realized how far I have come until our recent holiday. An unintentional trip down memory lane unearthed a lot of thoughts and reflections.

I had been to Calgary 30 years ago with my cousin. We were 18 years old at the time and we navigated the city without a map. Amazingly, we found her aunt's house, the zoo and Heritage Park. When I was paying for our tickets (to go through Heritage Park) and asked "Have you been here before?", it was such a gift to say "Yes. 30 years ago." It felt so good to walk down a path I had been before, making new memories ... yet cherishing the old ones.

My cousin and I each 'survived' a divorce. We married men that were quite similar in ways. We lived through the experience and each of us has carved a brand new life. We lost one life but gained another.

I had been to Drumheller with my family, as a child. As we were on the swinging bridge (on our recent holiday), I immediately asked "Was this made out of wood before?" (yes, it was). I remembered walking along it. I remembered a picture of my dad on it. I remembered him slightly rocking it. And then I remembered my recent conversations with his brothers about how heights didn't bother him. I had new memories to reinforce the old ones. Precious.

Dad has been gone so many years, it is such a gift to unearth a memory long forgotten. I could picture Dad 'in real life' - not through the still life a photograph. But an actual feeling, activity and living memory.

Our train excursion in Stettler brought up memories I had long forgotten. We rode in train cars built in the early 1920's, but a few of them were familiar to me. We used to ride the train a fair bit in the 1970's. Again, I turned to one of our tour guides and asked if these train cars were used in the 70's ... because I remembered them (yes, they were). Silly little things - like the heaters on the floor that I used to put my feet on ... the lights on the ceiling of the car. The upholstery of the seats and their ability to flip so that we could face each other on our long train rides. Nothing things. But long lost memories. I remembered the ease being a child and many small memories associated with those train trips.

I sometimes forget how easy it was being a child. I will get stuck on the 'ugly, no self confidence, shy' aspect of myself and forget that 99% of the time ... I was a young person with no worries. Riding the train with my mom and younger brother. The worries all belonged to my parents in those days. I had forgotten.

Then, there were a few of the 'scenes of betrayal' of relationships-gone-by that we happened upon. I didn't plan to seek these places out. They just appeared before me.

I have known in my mind, that I have healed and moved on. But my most recent break up was the hardest loss that I have known in my life (so far). I lived and breathed each one of the stages of grief. I felt a physical and emotional pain that I had never experienced before. As I was living it, it felt endless. But I eventually found my way out. Getting out the other side of grief and starting to live again was the gift I received for enduring the loss of my future as I knew it.

Anyway ... as I endured the pain/anger/depression cycles, I could unearth the pain in a moment. I woke up with it, I breathed it, I lived it, I couldn't forget it. The final scenes of our relationship ran in a loop in my mind and I felt powerless to stop it. The ultimate betrayal was simply a symptom of a relationship gone bad ... but it was that betrayal that ran through my mind over and over and over again. It was like waking up from a nightmare, only to return to it every time I closed my eyes. I had never felt so hurt or betrayed in my life. I trusted this man with my heart and soul. And he stomped on it and crushed it like an old cigarette butt. I was devastated.

Eventually, my life took that upward turn. I started rebuilding my life and myself. I accepted the past and could look back on that final betrayal and the people involved and feel ... nothing.

I, in no way decided to consciously seek out or avoid this 'place of betrayal' on our holiday. It was a non-event in my mind. So when this 'place' appeared before me in the grandest of all ways ... I smiled. I did a silent cheer as I voiced in my mind 'it doesn't hurt any more'. Indifference. When it comes to a broken heart, hate is not the opposite of love. Indifference is. And I'm there. I knew it before ... and the physical reminder just cemented the fact in my mind.

Another memory. This one, with the power to reopen a wound. But it was powerless, in my newly reconstructed life.

Then ... just as I thought there could be no more memories to unearth ... I unknowingly ended up on a country road that took me past just one more place in my past. The 'bush party' days when I was 16. The backdrop of many moments between me and my (then) future husband. The scene of the ultimate betrayal of my 'life so far', at age 16 (when he 'disappeared' into the bushes with my best friend ...). Nothing. Less than nothing. It was long after I drove past the farm yard that I actually remembered that this memory was a part of the many betrayals that relationship endured. Talk about indifference. That was over 30 years ago - it is better forgotten. And it almost was.

The memory of pain does fade with time. In the end, it is the good stuff that sifts to the top. Thank goodness.

In our trip down memory lane this past holiday, I remember ...

... a memorable holiday with my closest cousin as we were on the brink of our adult lives, at age 18
... a family vacation in the early 1970's, where my hard working Dad took time to let loose and 'swing' on that swinging bridge
... our many train rides as a child - rides back 'home' and trips to Winnipeg. A time where I had no worries
... old betrayals and wounds that have healed - almost forgotten, in some cases ... but in the end, what I truly remember is that I do have the ability to open my heart and love someone

Stage #7 in the 7 Stages of Grief is 'Acceptance and Hope'. I live and breathe acceptance of my life as I know it ... and hope? I've never been so full of it.

Never ... ever lose hope.