New Found Love. - New found love can be overwhelming. It open you up for the possibilities that you might have otherwise not prepared for. Yes, we want love, and yes, we oft...
Monday, September 21, 2009
My constant companion...Pain
Saturday was Michael's Celebration of life. I couldn't be more please with the collective love and energy that brought Michael's closest friends together to make this day happen. There were people there from the various stops along Michael's life path, and there were many who came that had never met Michael, but who wanted to pay tribute to the man who captured my heart in such a meaningful way.
I certainly felt a spirit of connection between all of us in the chapel that day, and hope that this connection will keep us strong in the coming days, weeks and years that lie ahead of us. I know that I will be looking to each of you in some small way to keep my spirits up, to remind me of Michael's endless stories, and to share with me a sense of his joy.
Right know I am in so much pain. I physically ache for the lack of Michael's presence. I want so badly to be awakened from this horrible dream, and to have Michael back in my arms. I am lost. I know that time has to take it's course, and that time is supposed to make me heal. Yet, I'm not so sure I want to be healed. This pain is real because my love and desire for Michael is real. I don't want to give up that love and desire, so is pain to be my new companion?
I suppose pain has been there all along. Pain has entered my life many times during these past 50 years. Pain most notably made itself known to me on October 16, 2007. That's the day I howled at the morning sky, I cursed the winds, and I unearthed a dark gloom within me never before recognized. On the morning of September 13th that dark gloom found it's way back into my consciousness, and lodged itself in my heart. I feel it's weight. I am almost doubled over by it's volume, not sure how to completely dislodge it from my chest.
Pain such as this, I did not welcome in. Pain such as this, it has me in it's grip. Yet pain such as this, I cannot say is completely unfamiliar. I have met this pain before, and have seen it around me. I saw this pain in others on Saturday, and I have seen it in others who also walk in grief.
In this past week I have felt like a ghost, not fully here, not fully there. I'm not even sure I want others to notice me as I move about my world. I have a need to be lost, to wander without a map, a plan, or a purpose. Yet I cannot fully indulge in this desire, as I am attached to this world. I am attached to you. I am attached to my kids. I am attached to the many people who love me, who loved Michael, and to the many people who don't even know us, but perhaps crossed our paths in everyday life.
As I have been writing this I have been aware of some distant music playing in the background. At first I thought it was coming from Arianne's room, then perhaps a neighbor's home. Just know I realized the music is far too familiar. It is one of Michael's favorite pieces, Songs from A Secret Garden. I had this CD playing constantly during Michael's final hours. I must have somehow accidentally turned the player on without notice.
As I turn up the volume, and beautiful music fills my room, my constant companion, "Pain," is being soothed. Tears help Pain to be less intrusive.
Earlier I asked Michael to return to me. I didn't want to continue without him, it was too painful. Maybe Michael's love, Michael's eyes, Michael's smile, Michael's joy, Michael's arms will ease me through this. Maybe he can ease us all through this.
Yesterday I fell asleep on the living room couch, and for a split second I dreamed Michael. He stood there before me with a sly grin on his face, and his eyes flickering with humor, and then he was gone. This split second brought me a sense of peace, and for the first time, a smile on my face .