Tsunami...

The sun breaches the horizon like any other day. Birds sing. Leaves rustle in a gentle breeze. Ducks bob on a pond. People walk dogs and take kids to the park. Others go about a morning commute. Bees buzz. Then the unexpected and unpredictable occurs and renders the day different. The earth sighs and groans and rolls over in its bed. Plates move and oceans surge. Giant waves swell and crash against once calm shores, clawing at coastlines, wreaking havoc. Once the devastation is complete the waters recede leaving the shoreline forever changed. Calm returns - until next time.

This is similar to grief - like one's own personal tsunami. I've been struggling with a fresh wave these past two weeks. Maybe it's because I laid to rest the anger and guilt I felt over  Mom's passing, like finally having my say and being heard unleashed new pain. Whatever the reason, I am overcome with loss at the strangest times. I might be out walking the dog, crafting a new piece of jewelry, or talking to a friend. Wherever I am and whatever I'm doing it finds me. 

It caught up with me the other day. I attended my first Strathcona County Writer's Group meeting. There were at least twenty-five people sitting elbow-to-elbow in the Birch room. We went through introductions and then it was round table time. Those who wanted to share something they'd written were welcome to do so. The stories and poems were varied and colorful and the writers gifted and open. It was an evening of lively storytelling. The meeting came to a close and I carried my elation at being part of this group out of the library and into the late summer evening; the air kissed with the slight chill of autumn-in-waiting, the sun losing its grip on the day. As I crossed the walkway to my car I thought of Mom and how much she would've enjoyed the meeting, how pleased she would be that I had attended. As a published writer and a founding member of the Medicine Hat Writer's Club she knew my joy. I imagined telling her about it. I think I even skipped a little when I pressed the unlock button on my keyfob. As I pulled the car door closed I only had time to put the key in the ignition before the wave rushed in. I wrapped my arms around the steering wheel, rested my head on my hands and let it wash over me. I let it have its way. When its wrath was spent, the tears stopped and calm returned. I wiped my face, turned the key in the ignition and drove home - just like nothing happened, like my heart didn't break open and I wasn't missing anyone.

It's a splendid thing to miss someone - to want to hold them once more and tell them you love them - to hear their voice and share their laughter - to tell them something important - to long for their reaction - to ache for them. Those who miss and are missed are blessed.  Kahlil Gibran said it best when he wrote;

"When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight."

I miss my Mom. The void I feel is like nothing I've ever known. Some days it seems to swallow me whole. But I know that this sense of loss is only because she was my delight, my heart, my friend. So I'll keep riding the waves and see where they take me. I know I'm not surfing alone. 

The rest is pixie dust...