If anyone has heard the story, or seen the performance, of the Olympic skater whose mother passed away literally hours before the event, it tells us so much of the human spirit and bonds of love. I know this young woman has not even comprehended that her mother is gone, yet, at some level, she knows. She's heard it, seen her father, and in the wonderment of commitment and dedication to her mother's life, she carried on...she performed, and it was elegant, beautiful, flawless. She set an example high above the bar and many stand in awe and ask how she did it, some even questioned her ability to return to the ice, and others were expecting less than her usual standard. But it didn't happen. No words can describe it, because they don't need to. It is where you get your strength when devastation and shock become part of who you now are, it is where you get your drive, your resolve, your hope...that organ of the body that does so much more than pump blood, that place that holds more love and emotion than can be described, that chamber called the heart. It stores a love that inspires, drives, and compels one through anything to keep going, to show up, and to do our best. Often, our best is not as flawless as that beautiful performance on ice. Often, it is just managing to get that left foot on the floor, just to begin that day. Or it is that energy it takes to clean up, fix your hair, go meet friends for dinner, or prepare a meal, or make a house a home. Or it is returning to a job that hasn't changed, that must be done, and will be done, whether we are in grief or not.
This beautiful young woman who lost her mother has all the angels smiling. She did it and she, too, will have her time to break down, cry, realize the impact, and continue to hold her head up. I truly didn't wonder how she did it at all. I know that the spirit of the loved ones gone before us have a compelling way of guiding and helping us make movement. When asked of me, "how do you do it", "how do you go on", I wish I could convey, in simple terms, the answer. I cannot explain it. But what I have said, repeatedly, is that when the loved one who has passed takes up residence in your soul, you are capable of anything.
In some complex way, the deceased have a way of accompanying us, like that shadow or cloak I have described. Sometimes it can be so powerful that I feel I have to shake it off a bit, it seems tangible. It doesn't happen right away. It happens when it does, when there is time for the separation to set in, for the acceptance to settle a bit. Like the settling of a new house, it has to "settle" for a bit, in each person's own timeframe, and then, it follows you everywhere, permeates, and guides. While I have to say so often, "She is not coming back", I have come to realize it is not over, this relationship with Allison. In many way, it is just beginning. It is not what I would want or wish for, and I don't always understand it, but I do find comfort and strength in knowing she remains a part of me.
We have the power to decide what we will make of ourselves once our beloved is gone. There are days, like yesterday, where the tears won't stop. There are days, like today, where my first thought was of her, hoping this is still a dream. But we have choices to make and a new strength and a new power. We are evolving as new people, souls never to be the same. The best thing about it all is we get to choose. Like the elegance of the skater, we will have our shining moments, and we will have our times of pain and pure devastation, later, or when the time is right for our spirit. We will have our own flawless performances, definitely not on the ice, but in what we do, how we do it, and when we do it. All things come, in their own time. But for now, we get to do what is needed, for ourselves, for our loved one who left us way too soon, for those who are still with us, and for God, who allows us this day and this opportunity.
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