The Eyes

Our eyes do tell all, when we take the time to look. It's true, they ARE the window to our souls. Sometimes we don't want to see what is there, but it is better when we do, for the truth and honesty that comes from the look in our eyes is revealing, liberating, and freedom comes when we face what is ours to face. I often look into my own eyes to affirm and confirm who I am, that what has happened is real, that I can make it with God's grace, that I can get up and move, and I can live. I cleanse them with a daily cry or tear, for what is lost, what is aching, what will never be, but also for what is now, what is here, what is mine to embrace. I look deeply into the green sea as my eyes have become Allison's, Jennifer's, my mother's, and sometimes, even, my father's. I see more than a color, I see with crispness, clarity, and intensity. I see more than I want to see, but I make myself look.

Recently, I met a woman who I have had a "connection" with for some time. I knew of her loss from others, another mother who buried a child after a cancer battle, a woman who is respected by many in her town and one who obviously works hard to provide and care for her family. We know of one another through the stories and connection of the heart. When we finally met face to face, there was no need for more than a simple handshake and hello, and as our eyes lingered on one another's I am sure they told the story, the whole story, in one simple glance. It was rather uncanny that on the day we met, I also received an e-mail from someone who I barely know, yet another connected soul through loss and trial. This woman had seen Allison's picture and announcement of services in the paper and had logged on to the caringbridge site that was active at the time. She and I have since met one time, and again, the eyes met in a crowded restaurant and we each knew it was the other one that we were here to meet. At any rate, something prompted her to think of our family that day, no doubt because she knows from the loss of her own precious 22 year old daughter, the stages and phases we go through. The passage she sent rang so true..."We quickly find there are no words to describe the experience of losing a child. For those who have not lost a child, no explanation will do. For those who have, no explanation is necessary"...by Mary Lingle. That says it all. And our eyes speak volumes.