March 1, 2023
One of the things I have
learned over the course of this life to date, is that we all have similar
experiences. Truly, nothing we go through happens only to us. We really
are not ever all alone.
What differences there may be between
your life and mine I believe can be found in how we deal with those experiences
that life tosses our way. Nobody’s path is all roses, or all crap. We each have
varying degrees of good and bad, happy and sad, joyful and tragic experiences in
our personal portfolios. The meaning of life, if there is one—and I believe
there is—may very well be the lessons we learn along the way, and our ability
to not only survive those valley experiences but thrive as we travel through
them on our individual paths.
A medical professional of my acquaintance
had a reaction that surprised me. On this particular occasion, my eyes misted as
I spoke of that first, long ago but very shocking loss in my young life—the death
of my father when I was just 8 and a half years old. He said, “You should be
well over that by now!” I let the comment pass, because, well, maybe he was
over the loss of his own father, a man he had buried when he himself had been a
well established adult. And, if so, then good for him.
But some of us never “get over”
losing loved ones—and really, I would argue that it’s an error to think that we
should. Hopefully, we do learn to go on. Hopefully, we wake up each day and get
stuff done. But I don’t think a prize is being offered for the speed with which
one finally and forever dispenses with the occasional symptom of grieving. As
in most everything, neither extreme in this instance is healthy. Shriveling up
in a perpetual if metaphorical fetal position doesn’t have much value; but
neither does taking an axe and chopping off all emotion.
It’s okay if that man who
seemed so shocked that a fifty-plus year old woman would have a tear for her
long dead daddy could himself put aside his sense of loss, of grief, and move
on and never again let that loss get him down. And it’s okay if I will forever have
that occasional day, here and there, when the pain returns, and the tears fall.
Everyone grieves, but everyone grieves
differently.
And of course, it’s not just that
first loss. My life has been a trail of losses, which is why this is a subject
I think about, and often. I lost my dad at 8 and my mother at 21. Then I lost
my second granddaughter, and then her daddy, my middle son; my sister died, and
three years ago, I lost my brother. And those are just the losses that are
connected to me through blood.
I do not spend everyday
weeping, but those losses are never completely out of mind for very long. Of
course, with my brother’s death I became the last of my birth family left
alive, and that is a surprisingly discomforting feeling. But I get up each day,
and some days are spectacular. I live and love and laugh—and maybe I can do all
those things because I have given myself permission not only to grieve, but to
let that pain show.
Yes, we share experiences, but
our responses to those experiences are different. We’re all walking the same
path, basically, from birth to death.
But more and more I am
convinced that it really is the journey, and not the destination, that matters
the most.
And, speaking of destinations,
next Monday I will be pursuing one! I and a few close writing pals will be
gathering for a short writing retreat. We’re not going far—just a couple of
hours away to a lake shore. So come next Wednesday, there will be no essay
posted. I haven’t missed many since that first one in 2006, so I hope you won’t
mind.
With everything that we have all dealt with over the last few years, I am
really looking forward to being face to face some with fellow authors.
Love,
Morgan
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
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