As spring blooms, I'm inside continuing my packing journey.
Since returning from my 12 day trip to The Raj- I'm noticing there is more willingness in me to trash things rather than pack things. Or to leave things rather than take things. Which is kind of interesting since I'm already taking very little.
Also, everything from the beach house (which has finally sold) is sitting in the garage to be sorted.
I ask myself, "How the hell did I aquire so much stuff?" I used to be the queen of minimal living and I flourished with less "things."
Today I was speaking to a friend and she told me "you're a gypsy, not many people could handle letting everything go and just taking off the way you're doing it."
And I had to smile because she's right. I'm a gypsy at heart. And I've been that way since Donovan died.
It's true. I'm a gypsy at heart and I probably would do better and have more harmony with a partner that didn't need conformity or more to the point..didn't need me to change but rather wanted to run wild with me. Not in a dysfunctional irresponsible way but in a joyful, fun and embracing the pleasures of life sort of way.
Everything has become convoluted and distorted by things I can't mention because it's not my story to tell. And it feels like maybe I accepted those things because it allowed me to lower my own integrity. Which is a whole different story in and of itself.
And this is where grief ties in for me and why the african grief ritual was so important for me personally and my personal growth. I've accepted what is really unacceptable to me. Not because I'm an idiot or have low self worth or self-esteem issues. But because I was blocked by my own grief. And when you go deeper into your soul what happens is you discover the true connections. The reasons no one has thought of, not even yourself.
For me, having my baby die in my arms when I was 25 years old was a severe occurrence. I literally lost my mind. A cosmic crack as my Dad likes to frame it.
I met a woman at the Cedar Rapids airport Sunday who was heading to her beloved grandfathers funeral. We began talking and she was very open and raw and began to share with me that one of her son's died when he was 18 months old and that grief was not as intense for her as her grandfather dying and her mother told her that was because she spent a lifetime with her grandfather and only a short time with her son and she agrees. Grief is different for everyone.
This is her truth. I'm not a professional nor do I have any wisdom or education on anyone else's experience and I tend to honor what is true for someone- especially around death. But I couldn't help but wonder if maybe a part of her current grandfathers grief was a combination or added residue. Or anything else for that matter. Grief is a tricky road to travel. She was a special lady. Raw, vulnerable and tender hearted and we could talk about these things with zero weirdness with no one feeling uncomfortable.
I wonder if her grief is combined because when I went to the grief ritual thinking my sadness and pain had something to do with my current ending...as I began to feel safe enough to be fully present to my grief... it was Donovans death that came up for me. Again.
And recently, when I told a good friend I was moving to Florida for 6 months, she had a breakdown and began to cry. Not really because I was moving but because she recently lost a beloved sister and she is raw and vulnerable and tender hearted right now too.
"The grief wasn't as intense because he wasn't around for very long." I could not connect to that on any level but that doesn't devalue her truth. It just means mine is different.
If we don't honor and handle or allow our grief to take its natural course, if we stop it in any way, I believe all that happens is it seeps out in strange ways because it won't be denied no matter how hard we try.
And today, while packing up I came across the hat Donovan wore when he came home from the hospital. I can't believe I still have that. Seeing it made me happy. Instinctively, I picked it up and smelled it.
I can't believe I still have half the stuff I have. Yet, I see no reason to get rid of it. Just like I see no reason to get rid of my 23 year old son's karate outfit that wouldn't even fit is right leg now.
For some reason, I can't help but feel it will be my son's choice to get rid of some things when the time is right he can make those choices. Until then, I'm packing them up. Which kind of makes being a gypsy a little more difficult. A true gypsy would grab her bag and move forward. I guess the part of me who is mom-just needs a bigger bag :)
Freedom is around the corner....I can feel it.