Wondering about my Wanderings

Grief's Storm

Grief's storm is one that multiplies itself many times over in the course of a persons life. I have seen it up front and personal in the last few months. I went to see my mother for the "last" time or so I thought. I only know she is very ill on the outside. That is what I see and hear from those who know her best and yet when I saw her for myself I left feeling very confused. How can somebody so sick be so happy and desiring to share this happiness with others? I left wondering how much I wanted her to live. I hated the thought of her suffering and still I love the joy she exudes despite what others share about her physical decline. It is grief that is in the form of a bud waiting for a time when we know the time approaches to bloom and at that point we can all smell the flower and know that we are not alone in our struggle to know when to let go and when to hold on. It is too much like birth. It is hard to wait and yet when it is time to see new birth we can see.

Grief takes on different forms since that time. I long to hear my son's voice. It seems like I have lost touch ever since I went back to see how my mom was doing. I last texted him about mom going to the emergency room and there was silence. I have not experienced his presence in any form of his own will since. I did get him to call by writing to his wife's mother. I am sure that has put a wedge between us and yet I miss my son and even more my granddaughter who has just turned four months. I am very sure that I have only seen Naomi about ten times since she was born. It was made clear that family could only see Naomi by appointment. I am beginning to wonder what I might do to make that time happen.

Grief also takes form in the form of our dog that we love badly. We got a not from our complex that they were going to have our dog taken away from us if we did not take care of him better. Buddy is all of ten pounds and all the children love him. He is accused of peeing on flowers, bolting out of our house one time too many and poop that does not get picked up. We look at our dog and know we are the ones to blame. We feel awful. Sometimes you get put in a position where you are can not love enough. This is one of grief's many snare. The thunder lightning and rain come, where is the peace in the midst of the storm?