Tuesday, November 22, 2011

The Hole

Again I find myself apologizing to you my friends, for having been silent for so long.  It's hard to express the way I've been feeling, so I haven't tried for fear of depressing you to tears.  If this morning's attempt leans that direction, please know that it's not my intent, but perhaps my using this forum to express some repressed feelings, might just help to release the demons binding my heart over the past few months, and who knows, ...maybe we can help each other.
    As most of you reading this blog know, my family has suffered extreme loss over the past year and a half with the passing of first Van, and then JoLyn.  I learned while supporting my sweet Marianne through the death of her father and brother several years ago, that grieving is a personal thing, the lengths and terms of which must not be dictated, or even suggested in some cases.  Knowing this, however, I somehow failed to realize that it also applies to my own struggles, and that like it or not, my mind cannot dictate to my soul, how and for what length of time it will ache.
     The other morning while working at my desk, I absent mindedly glanced over at a small photograph that stands at the left of my work space.  In the picture are my two departed siblings, standing with their arms around each other with the majestic Glacier Mountains rising up and away in the picturesque back ground.  Before I knew it, I was drenching my paperwork with tears, shaking uncontrollably in my lonely prison cell, and try as I might, the gaping hole that seemed to be ever widening in front of me, would not go away.  Finding me in my moment of grief, Marianne did her best to console me, offering every conceivable virtuous thing in our life together as reason to lift my eyes and heart to loftier images.  In time, the pain subsided some, and I was able to resume my day, but with each forward step I take, as it has now for some time, the cavern of emptiness before me remains, moving steadily along at my pace.
     I know I'm not alone, not in my personal grief, or in the mutual pain felt by so many of you and countless others around the world, so I ask with most tender feeling, How are you coping? ...with the hope you will be willing to share your thoughts.
     This morning someone tweeted a link for a ten year old girl recently diagnosed with leukemia.  As I clicked on the link and Rascal Flats Song "I won't let go" (I think that's the title) began to play, I instantly was drawn back to the times I shared with my loved ones in the months, days, and minutes before their passing.  Again, unable to control my emotions I wept, reveling in those precious moments, each so purposeful and even sacred to me.  Not everybody dies from cancer, in fact, more and more are surviving with medical advances, but in my case, and that of my family's, and all of you who's loved ones lost their battle, we are left faced with the gap in life that only they could fill.  All we have are the memories, and the hope of reunion in the next life, and for now must find a way to bridge the chasm of depression which seems to always be dragging our focus downward into its blackness.
     For today, and this week of Thanks Giving, I plan to look up, knowing they're with God, and work hard on keeping their smiles, virtues, and the love we shared continually in focus, with my thanks being that God was merciful enough to warn  us before calling them home.
     Have a wonderful Holiday.  Thank you for your friendship, and so many wonderful thoughts and kind words that have come my way.

Quinn