Sunday, July 6, 2008
Grief's Antithesis (Post Script)
My new bed time seems to be 2am. Soon after returning from Oklahoma City I just couldn’t sleep. I was stuck in one of the stages of mourning. I still am, I’m sure, but whatever stage I’m in has been balanced by its antithesis.
I went for a midnight walk tonight. While I walk almost every day – mostly with my friend’s dog, Murphy, tonight I walked alone with music blaring into my ears. I skipped from song to song, searching for the specific fit for my mood and mindset. Each song fit perfectly.
The antithesis to my repressed grief has provided me with inspiration and clarity beyond anything I’ve experienced in some time – maybe ever. It’s funny how I avoid words like, ‘never’, ‘ever’ and ‘always’. I seem to be hanging on to them for those undeniable moments of purity and certainty. Using them at all feels foreign, perhaps because the idea of purity and clarity seem so far away.
Yet tonight, on my walk, along with the piercing flashes of the reality that my father is gone forever is the saturating comfort of goodness and the undeniable joy that life can offer. Even in modest doses, joy and love overcomes everything. Love wins. It always wins.
As someone who occasionally feels like he fucks things up for a living, finding a joyous balance in tragedy and the cycle of life is a special thing. Tonight as I walked, the flowing sprinkler water in the gutter seemed significant and redeeming. The beauty of the fact that life and love goes on is a concept simultaneously profound and just out of reach. I understand it, yet it’s far bigger than I am.
I actually stopped and watched the meaningless water flow to the sewer. All I could think was that this water would be doing this whether my dad had lived or died. It just flows. But with death’s antithesis fresh in my heart and soul the water has life and purpose. In my tired and altered mind it represents redemption and renewal. Maybe God is blessing me with a gift he’s been saving for the right moment.
In these moments I am thankful for life’s beauty: loss and love, joy and sorrow. Our nerve endings were meant to be alive and aware of our heart’s gains and losses. Life goes on, and most often beautifully. It’s up to each of us to open our eyes to the details and significance of things like sprinkler water in a gutter.
I went for a midnight walk tonight. While I walk almost every day – mostly with my friend’s dog, Murphy, tonight I walked alone with music blaring into my ears. I skipped from song to song, searching for the specific fit for my mood and mindset. Each song fit perfectly.
The antithesis to my repressed grief has provided me with inspiration and clarity beyond anything I’ve experienced in some time – maybe ever. It’s funny how I avoid words like, ‘never’, ‘ever’ and ‘always’. I seem to be hanging on to them for those undeniable moments of purity and certainty. Using them at all feels foreign, perhaps because the idea of purity and clarity seem so far away.
Yet tonight, on my walk, along with the piercing flashes of the reality that my father is gone forever is the saturating comfort of goodness and the undeniable joy that life can offer. Even in modest doses, joy and love overcomes everything. Love wins. It always wins.
As someone who occasionally feels like he fucks things up for a living, finding a joyous balance in tragedy and the cycle of life is a special thing. Tonight as I walked, the flowing sprinkler water in the gutter seemed significant and redeeming. The beauty of the fact that life and love goes on is a concept simultaneously profound and just out of reach. I understand it, yet it’s far bigger than I am.
I actually stopped and watched the meaningless water flow to the sewer. All I could think was that this water would be doing this whether my dad had lived or died. It just flows. But with death’s antithesis fresh in my heart and soul the water has life and purpose. In my tired and altered mind it represents redemption and renewal. Maybe God is blessing me with a gift he’s been saving for the right moment.
In these moments I am thankful for life’s beauty: loss and love, joy and sorrow. Our nerve endings were meant to be alive and aware of our heart’s gains and losses. Life goes on, and most often beautifully. It’s up to each of us to open our eyes to the details and significance of things like sprinkler water in a gutter.
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