In Silence & Stillness.

I remember when I took my first trip alone in high school to California to visit my friends Melinda and Andrea. As soon as I got off the airplane it was like an entire new world to me. They lovingly laughed at me because for the first two days I became oddly silent. Even I surprised myself. I’m not sure if it was culture shock or just being away. The necessity of silence hasn’t reappeared for me since that time until this week.

I wrote in my journal last night that for the first time in a long time I’m finding peace in solitude and maybe that’s where healing lies for me. I spent the better part of the last year open with my grief. Sharing how I feel and being unashamed of the depths of my sadness from the loss of Sam. I had just assumed that coming here I would be just as good at sharing my feelings yet instead, I’ve had the overwhelming need for stillness, silence and being alone.

I think this week has proven in my own self reflection how ‘okay’ I have become to sit with my feelings. I am no longer afraid of them. I am no longer afraid to be alone. In closing of our morning practice Amelia read an excerpt from her new book wherein she asked herself, “Can I accept the death of the life I had planned so a new life can emerge?

This week in our mindfulness meditation our teacher said to us, “Losing your baby will never change.” No one has ever said that to me before. It took a year and one month for someone to tell me that Sam really is gone. He died. There is nothing I can do to breathe life into his body again.

She then asked us what would we lose, gain and learn if I stopped wanting things to be different. Another Mama asked if we ever stopped wanting life to be different. I know my heart will always want Sam to be here but maybe it’s time I shift my focus from the heartache of his death to moving forward in life with him.

Yesterday we cleansed our bodies in the smoke of burning sage. We lifted the smoke to our eyes, so that we might see clearly; our ears, so that we might listen with understanding; our throat, so we might speak our truths; our feet, so we might be covered; and over our heads for good luck. As I stood there I realized I had forgotten one part. I forgot to cleanse the area of my groin. The place where Sam was born and died. After my time had passed I stood there wondering how I earth I could be here because of Sam’s death and forget to cleanse myself in the only place he lived. Just as soon as my heart began to ache the wind blew, and I was covered in the ashes of the sage.

Sam is present. He is with me. My life is not as I had planned it. But I can move forward in what is; in healing. It’s time. I have faith that he will continue to cover me as I move forward in life. I have faith that he will continue to surround me.

I see you, Sam. Mama loves you.