Emergency Appointment

At certain times, I find myself needing an emergency appointment. I'm not sure with whom, or why, or what needs "fixing", or mending, besides my heart, but nevertheless, I wish I could call 911 and get some assistance. But I cannot. They don't have the resources to "fix" this, the pain, the agony of loss, the physical symptoms that come with grief, the almost perpetual flu-like symptoms, that come and go, but like an uninvited guest, just show up and stay. At times like this, pre-holiday festivities blended with the final weeks Allison was with us in the physical sense, well, there is just no set pattern for maneuvering, I set myself on pilot in many ways, receiving comments and compliments of how good I look, or how I am out shopping again, or may even attend a holiday party this year. Or not. Most likely not. Why? Some ask. Why not? Others ask. Isn't it time? Some will say. Just come for a little while. Many will state. I love them for trying, I really do. But how do I explain what it takes to do all of that, to make the conversation, to look around and see their whole family together, knowing I still have to re figure the table setting, the plate distribution, the meal, the laughter, and now the tears, without her. I need an emergency appointment to get me through.

But who to call? I know full well that we are not the only ones staggering through the season, the final days, and I know full well, also, to count my blessings. God is so good. And I am so thankful. But that does not take away this pain, one minute feeling as though I may vomit, the next, feeling like I need to eat, and in the next, getting all ready to go to the store, only to find myself too exhausted. Emotional exhaustion, that all too consuming and I find myself needing assistance, an emergency appointment. But again, who to call? I can, and do, call my sister. We are one in our spirit, and thank God she is present in my life. But even in that, as she finds her own way in the loss of her husband, how can I expect her to know the right fix for that moment in time? I can call my neighbor, but in reality, I need to be there for her, and I wish to do more to ease her shattered world as she and her husband and daughters learn how to live and move after losing their beloved in a car accident. I can call a woman I often have coffee with, but one of her daughters is going through a cancer battle of her own. I can call a dear friend, but her sister just very unexpectedly passed and I know what this day is like for her. I can call a special friend, but she is waiting with her daughter for her first grandchild to be born. I have a whole host of people to call to make an emergency appointment, but some are getting ready for a wedding this weekend, others are having their own surgery, others are planning holiday parties, others are so strapped for time in their over busy world that my call would only add to their burdens. I can call family and friends, therapists, and healers, I can start at the top of my list, only to find every single person has something to face, work through, deal with, and yes, even celebrate. That is me, too. In my pain, in my suffering, that is known only to me, I truly understand that each one of us carries the whole world on our shoulders at times, and that it can seem monumental just to BE.

I do need an emergency appointment. Truly. And many would really be there if I needed or asked. It's not their fault that they cannot come running. I have learned, and need to remind myself, that at times like this, these days that are so difficult to stay strong through, that my emergency appointment is with myself. It is in the way I can make food for someone else today, bake a loaf of bread, pick up dear Rex from the groomer, deliver milk and eggs to some one's refrigerator that has been rather empty lately, order the Thanksgiving dinner for another family faced by extreme poverty, wrap the gifts for the children's home as MY gift to Allison this year. I have access to many ways of scheduling that emergency appointment. Most of all I have my prayer time, my devotions, the gift of intuition, the gift of time, the gift of being Jennifer mom, Joe's wife, Karen and David's sister, and God's child. I have the memory of being Allison's mother for 21 years on earth, giving me a host of memories. I have means to schedule emergency appointments that can pick myself up and share that part of me that is able to be shared, and while some days it's harder to find the right modality, at my fingertips, and in my soul, there is always reason to keep going.

Much has happened of late, causing me to take a deeper look into the spiritual side of grief. I will admit I have been consumed, gravitating toward the sadness of life, the pain and loss, because it is just everywhere. I allow myself to visit the place of darkness, but just a visit. I have learned not to stay too long, or else the darkness will swallow me, and I won't be able to see the light. I learned early on to work through this MY way, and through the many, many modalities, I work to live, I grieve, and I get swallowed up, just like anyone else. I accept the dark times, and through various healing sessions, I empower myself to do what is necessary to survive. I do what is necessary to live, breathe, and exist. Even on the days when I would prefer to stay in pajamas till noon, and those are many lately, I allow the indulgence, but I rise up and gather what is good to take me out of the pain. Or at least I try to...don't always succeed, often succumb to the suction of grief, but while doing so, all the while, looking for that crack of light.

We are all in a losing zone right now. Sometimes I can imagine that no one knows my pain, and I don't know anyone else's. I can get swallowed up in wondering how I am going to keep hearing and accepting the news that each day brings...cancer, death, car accidents, house foreclosure, hunger, growing death by suicide, devastation. I find myself inundated with the tragedies, because now I feel something I may have not felt before, and that is what true grief, right to the core of my being, is like, and I only "wish" it upon no one else. But it comes, and it goes, and we each get a turn.

I have come to realize that all of this is about who we are from a spiritual perspective. It's going to happen. Loss, pain, and all those things that can consume us. We are human beings and we cannot get through life without avoiding it. We are human beings who think about being spiritual, but in reality, we are spiritual beings living in a human world. I know that I have shared a quote of this magnitude in my writing and personal journals, because early on, when I began my quest to live after death, I relied on my own interpretation of it...I believe it was Stephen Covey who said, and I am paraphrasing..."We are not human beings on a spiritual journey, we are spiritual beings on a human journey".

It takes much work and energy healing, thank you dear Helen for being in my life, to understand oneself and where we fit into all this, and how we fulfill our purpose here, that is, while we are here. It takes that deeper understanding that scriptures and affirmations provide, but more importantly, it takes weaving them into my being, not my human BEING, my spiritual BEING. It takes making the choice to still my soul so I can hear, really hear, what God wants from me. Even on my days of angst, crying out, inner turmoil, confusion, fatigue, remembering what I don't want to, and forgetting what I wish I could recall, it is about the spiritual realm, the life that is bigger and better than me.

So much is uncertain, every step. I don't know how to do this. I find myself walking the steps of what Helen helped me term, "countdown energy", those hours, minutes, images, days, season, holiday, memories, that bring me closer and closer to a time that she, Allison, left this earth, left her physical being for her full and beautiful spiritual self, leaving behind a host of loved ones, trying to make sense of what this side of heaven is all about. It takes everything I have in me to move through this time, knowing I am being carried, knowing I am not doing anything special, this is not ME, this is a host of angels, and support from above. It takes every ounce of strength to remove myself from enduring the physical loss, to focus on the bigger and better picture. I am working on it, I am lifting my heart to her, to the light, letting her go, even when I don't want to, letting her go and spread her wings, knowing, she will never be physically mine again, but she will always come back to me, spiritually, fully and lovingly.