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The Growing Through Grief series
With remarkable frequency, I find crickets in my house. Rather than a cause for alarm that my door seals are leaking (they're not,) I see these visitors as messengers of life, and then carefully escort them outside. Life goes on.
For anyone who has mourned the death of a loved one or experienced a painful life change, there is a dominant question: will life go on? And if I accept that as fact--even while clueless--the next question is: what will a new life look like? For most, the acute state of emptiness and even purposelessness will change to a gentle forbearance after two or three months. Then, as new patterns develop: brewing a smaller pot of coffee, rising earlier to walk the dog, halving recipes or opting for convenience food and paper plates, what a new life looks like begins to emerge. As the visiting crickets suggest, life goes on.
"Cricket symbolism is a sign of exceptional luck. Furthermore, this spirit animal says that the things that you have been working toward and dreaming about are now possible." Source
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Moving beyond forbearance, however, is an important indicator of adjustment. When I found myself beginning to define my future with wants, hopes, and dreams, I stopped asking others "where do I belong?" and began asking myself what do I need? I asked, what do I like to do? and then rephrased it as: what do I really, really want to do?
I realized I was tying my shoelaces with a new intention: being and becoming who I truly wanted to be.
There is a wonderful poem which supported me line by line, as I moved through grief, day by day. It reminded me that yes--life goes on, and unimaginably good things can unfold if I am open to them!
Thou hast made me endless
(from Gitanjali by Rabindranath Tagore)
Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure.
This frail vessel thou emptiest again and again,
and fillest it ever with fresh life.
This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales,
and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.
At the immortal touch of thy hands
my little heart loses its limits in joy
and gives birth to utterance ineffable.
Thy infinite gifts come to me
only on these very small hands of mine.
Ages pass, and still thou pourest,
and still there is room to fill.
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This post is lovingly dedicated to RRR
Thank you for caring and sharing!
Read more about grief adjustment, and supporting someone adjusting after a loss:
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