I know what you feel. Pain splits the heart open and tears the human voice out of you. At first you think: I wish I could die too — because then you wouldn’t have to feel what makes you, once carefree and strong, release an inarticulate scream from your throat.
The sparkle disappears from your eyes.
You want to stop existing as well. You ask fate: why didn’t it choose me?
Even just surviving makes sense — because the human being wants to endure. You need something to hold on to. Because you don’t want to accept the fact that someone you loved with all your heart — and who loved you without conditions — has left. You get stuck inside the ending of that story. Everything loses meaning. Because this cannot have meaning.
First you want your old life back. Then everything becomes “whatever.”
A part of you died with them too.
But if you would have chosen life for them… when will you choose to rise and live?
Because you were made from them, and through them you became who you are now — meaning: they are within you, with you, exactly as their name says: the one who belongs to you.
In the pain — and in letting it go, in accepting what cannot be changed — there is release.
Why are you mourning their life? That is their life.
You still have yours — here.
Every board game you play now, every walk beneath spring trees, every sled ride, every step you take while dancing — anything that brings you joy — awakens the old good feeling again.
Yes, you will cry when you hold the old box again, or when your hands shape a snowball once more. But how many tears have been stored inside you, uncried — tears that, after the frost, the warmth of your heart can wash deep into the earth.
How could the two of you meet, if their soul is flying lightly in love filled with joy — while you still wear the heavy drapes of grief and the chain of anger?
Be happy with them — because they chose you for their entire life. They knew you would be able, after the numb survival, to find them again — no matter how long it takes. They trusted you. They knew you are strong. And I know it too. I see it.
I see you.
Until now, you gave your life to someone else — to death, to loss. Now take it back, because you are still here. You still have work to do here.
“But how?” you ask.
“The world has been grey for so long. I don’t even know how anymore.”
Remember.
Every held-back drop feeds the desert.
You already know what it feels like when the flower of your world withers.
Now it’s time to meet the part where light fills the soil soaked by tears with life again.
So water it — richly — at last.
Life carves a path for itself. Sometimes a river washes its way for a long time, sometimes rocks fall into the depths and widen the riverbed.
But it flows — until it reaches its destination.
~Ildikó Dajbukát
Spirit touch healing
Image: Csontváry – The Lonely Cedar
