Never Alone
- 10
- 26
- 10
It is truly amazing. Every time I question why I am here in this odd land, this exquisite ether, an answer comes. This happened to me just yesterday. The truth is that I am having a hard time figuring out what I want and what I need these days. My instinct is telling me to spend less time tapping keys and concocting chapters and to focus more on family. My gut is telling me to cozy up to my growing girls, to pause and enjoy this final half of my final pregnancy. But my mind is mottled with the chatter of my fictional characters, the new kids on my literary block. At day and at night, they whisper for my attention. And then there is this blog, this haunt of mine that has in so many ways become like another child. Needy. Lovely. Exhausting.
But this blog? It is not a child. It is a thing. Just a thing.
So, why? Why do I keep coming here and scattering confetti of self and story and struggle? Why do I feel so compelled to put myself out there, in here, to broadcast who I was and who I am and who I am becoming?
Because. Self matters. Stories mean something. Struggle unites us.
Yesterday, I clicked on a link shared by my good friend Lindsey on Twitter. Lindsey has raved about fellow writer and blogger Katrina Kenison and yesterday, I made my way to Katrina’s blog and read what she wrote about losing her dear friend this past weekend:
Death and life, one inextricable from the other. What I know for sure now is that a heart can accommodate both, a home can accommodate both, a family can accommodate both… We may not know what to expect from death, or whether we are truly up to the task we’ve taken on when we promise to stay near. And then, having made clear our intention to be present come what may, we find that even in our most challenging transitions, we do know what to do. Our hearts tell us how to make love visible. Our hands know, without being taught, how to soothe a brow, change a sick bed, tend a body. Dying is hard physical work, protracted and laborious in one so young and otherwise healthy. And, despite the most attentive ministrations, life’s final stages are not always beautiful. To be human, it seems, is to suffer and to pray for an end to suffering. And then, in life’s final moments, there is peace, and grace, and even, for one brief instant, a glimpse of the great mystery beyond this earthly realm.
I read this and nodded because it made perfect, palpable, profound sense to me. I have been there. By the bed. Saying an impossible goodbye. It was Katrina’s friend. It was my Dad. But, really, so much was the same. There are universals here. Wrenching universals. And I am not yet ready to go there, to write about the details of my experience, my loss. But I am ready to read words that make me recognize and make me feel and make me remember.
Words that make me realize something so important: I am not alone. In this dance of life and death, we never are.
This realization, timely as ever, is why. Why I come here. Why I want to. Why I need to.
This blog? This place? This world? These words? These neighbors in this invisible land? These things are not just things. They are so much more.
Thank you, Katrina, for your words. For sharing the realness of your rawness. I look forward to reading more of your words. And thank you, Lindsey, for pointing the way.
___________________________________________________________________________________
Do you blog and read blogs in part to connect with others in this dance of life and death? Do Katrina’s words speak to you and make you nod? Are you part of the club? Do you struggle with questions of what you want and what you need?
Everyone struggles and...
Wow. I am left almost speechless…..
We are all in this together and together we can help each other. Take care of yourself. Do what feels right for you…..
Loss of a loved one is hard. Just take your time enjoying the small moments.
I, too, am in awe of Katrina’s words. And am inspired by your reflection on how her words, her truths, in turn inspired you.
I love it when we ask a question and if we aren’t too specific about HOW the answer must show up, it always shows up.
xoxoxo
Love reading this – the words of two of my beloved writers, mingling together. I’m glad you keep coming back here, am grateful for your continued scattering of confetti (love that image) of your self and thoughts … they make me feel less alone. Thank you. xoxo
Those were very powerful words.I am fortunate to never have lost anyone at this point in my life. I try and prepare, because i know it’s unevitable, and it will hit me like a ton of bricks. I appreciate her honesty, and her ability to share her raw emotions.
I definitely read this blog to read about other peoples lives, what their going through, and how they overcome their obstacles. I love the connection of communicating with people all over the world, without actually meeting, just sharing thoughts and feelings. This is the best part of my morning routine.
I’ve never been by the bedside. But your words and Katrina’s leave both a knot and a comfort deep in my gut. I fear the day that I am by the bedside. But I take heart in knowing that I will fumble onto the right path in spite of myself. Thank you.
Sometimes I miss the innocence and naivete of never having lost anyone or experienced many of the things we read about blogging.
But among the pain and questioning are lessons that I have learned and experiences that have helped make me who I am. I suppose that it is a bit cliche, but sometimes being forged in fire and forced to dance among the flames provides you with growth opportunities that prepare you for the hard moments that we all must face.
The blog is a great place to voice comments and questions. It is my thinking out loud place and often where I am reminded that I am not the only one on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride.
I have been by the bedside saying the impossible goodbye. I think that I do blog and read blogs to connect with others in this dance. Well said ! Thank you for scattering your confetti of self…
I’ve been by the bed a couple of times. These words were so true and beautiful.
And I ask myself the same questions about blogging a lot. Why I put myself out there, why I’m drawn back to the page to share so publicly. I have plenty of friends to tell my stories, but there’s just something different about this. Maybe the possibilities, how endless they are…that our stories and words can meet so many computer screens and connect with so many soul places at any given moment. Because the words stick and are found at just the right time by just the right person…I don’t know. Just thoughts.
I’m glad you keep returning. Your words help me feel less alone as well. And Katrina’s piece was…beyond.
Aidan, I am glad you shared the excerpt from Katrina’s blog. I, however, am still struggling to find the grace in my father’s final moments in passing. All I see are the gray sheets and hear the sound of the oxygen machine breathing into the empty space. I am working on finding the grace in those final days.
Blogging is a connection and way for each of us to build each other up, support each other, and form a community. I find it amazing how much support we can all give each other when we might be having a hard time.
ADR-
Balance is a tricky thing. Staying in the moment is even harder. For me, I’ve found that by being selfish for a few hours and giving myself permission to write, I am then able to enjoy my moments with my son. I get myself out of the way, so I can just be with him and not be thinking of a million other things. I feel more balanced after I write, which allows me to be a better mom.
Being with your kids 24/7 isn’t necessarily better if you are distracted and resentful. By giving yourself “you time” to write, I bet you’re more present and engaged when you are with your kids. And you are giving your girls a gift, showing them that a mom can be all kinds of things, and that following your dreams is something you should never stop striving for.
At least this is what I tell myself when I get a case of the mean guilts.
Aidan, So glad we connected here and thank you for sharing my words with your readers. What I’ve realized, during these last few days, is that my friend Diane was right when she spoke of “so much goodness in the world.” It’s right here, in strangers reaching out to one another to offer support and encouragement, healing words, and heartfelt glimpses of their own stories and struggles. We’re all in it together. I love being reminded of that, and I am, every day, as I read the blogs I love and the comments thoughtful readers leave for me. Thank you! k