Sense of Loss

Sometimes it all completely wholly fully. Just seems. Is. Too much. The loss keeps coming never stopping more pain more devastation more sadness. As if you need can take endure any more.

Numbness sets in. Drowning sorrow turns to mush. There is nothing your brain can do to process synthesize digest any more.

You step away. Step out. Shut down. That part of your brain heart soul that needs time space to heal. Deal. Move through the stages of grief. Simultaneously. Concurrently. With angles and movement and earthquakes. Never linear. Never neat or tidy or organized or timely.

Something hit me last week. It had been nudging me before that. Wondering worrying picking at picking apart until I had to address this feeling. That something was terribly horribly wrong. Amiss. Not at all entirely right.

You see. When you are in the midst middle swimming through pools of emotions and doings. You miss things. And this thing was beginning to loom grow. Panic setting in.

Why. Of all people. Had I not heard from my friend George. My college friend of over 30 years. Who would surely certainly with no hesitation or doubt post immediately a card or letter or email of eloquent proportions and divinity. About the loss of my mom. Whom he had met. Broke bread laughed shared. But whom most of all. My ethereal friend George. Would have reached out. To ensure be assured. That I was ok.

My friend for whom I had already ordered a holiday gift. Receiving notice of delivery.

Nothing

My stomach ached pitted tore inside head shouting no. I would wake up and see an email from George. Telling me some tale or story or imaginings of why he had not been in touch contact since late October. Some witticisms and joy. Perhaps caught up in an amazingly overwhelmingly beautiful soul crushing affair. Trapped in love in a penthouse or island. Covid appropriate of course.

And then. Finally. I searched the internet. When my email and call and facebook post requesting any info on him. Had not been met. With by him. But instead. A message from another friend of his. Expressing concern doubt.

We had both come across it. This notice. Of a service wake funeral. For a George Ahia.

But. Surely. There must be another person of by that name. Who was perhaps much older and had led a beautiful rich fabulous life. And was then ready to go. On to the next place phase stage of existence.

My husband partner trusted soulmate. Suggested. Knew. I should contact the funeral home. To see. If maybe this was not the person my friend who had spent hundreds thousands of hours sharing thoughts opinions perspectives of the world universe God.

But. He hugged me. Said he trusted my feelings. And I had been sinking this feeling for the past week. Not wanting able to confront it. Just whispers to J.P. That I was worried concerned. I did not say scared petrified horrified. That. I already knew the truth.

I picked up the phone. Called. Listened to the history of this amazing community resource place. That had been at the center of the fight for civil rights in Chicago. Whose father had started this business to provide feasible dignified death services for African Americans. That same person would also meet Martin Luther King Jr at the airport and host him when he was in town. The history was incredible. Soothing.

And then. Off hold. Odd request. You see I have not been able to make contact with my friend who has the same name as a person for whom you held a service two days ago. Might I tell you his birthday and see if it’s the same? But no. That cant be right. It is him. But how? Oh you don’t have that information. Ok. Thank you. Bye.

But no

Not him. Not now. What was our last conversation. What did I say. Did I reach out to him enough. Why didn’t I check on him. To see make sure he was ok. Why didn’t I notice earlier that I had not heard anything. From my friend

(Because when one is drowning in sorrow sadness fighting to overcome claw your way back to some sense kind of normalcy. You miss things. Big horribly important sad things)

And then the need. Immediately. To write something. Of honor respect gratitude. For my friend. To recall remember so many instances passings moments. Quickly before they escape vanish become too thin to see

All. Before collecting Macy at the airport. Such a wonderful fabulous holiday gift of having being loving all my people under one roof.

Joy intermixed mingled with so much sorrow. Numbness takes over wins. It is too much to feel all of it.

So we work diligently. To pass over. Move on. Set aside this box of overflowing cluttery mess. For another day time place. Someday in the not too distant future. Or perhaps slowly seething seeking out over days months years. To mourn the loss. Of a dear friend.

And then confirmation from his brother. Also shocked surprised bewildered. At over the loss. Looking for answers to questions of why and how. Still unknown

(but will knowing somehow alleviate pain sorrow?)

This year has seen so very much loss. On a personal level, J.P. lost his mom’s best friend a very dear sweet strong smart accomplished person. We lost our dog Honey, my mom, and our friend George.

We have lost our sense of self and way and path. And what we thought of believed in others. We have lost friendships and respect and our typical standard daily life. Of celebrations and moments of reflection. Of gatherings for joy and mourning. Of our sense of humanity and what is good in the world. And right and just and true.

Sometimes. In these darkest of moments. When our sadness and tears morph into a state of nothingness.

It is then. Now. In these moments. That we fight struggle our very own selves sometimes. To find a way to help others. To honor those whom we have lost. To find redemption in doing something good.

(Yesterday I signed our family up to make food deliver needs goods items. To Annapolis Lighthouse Shelter. On the anniversary of my favorite day. Our wedding. After Christmas. Other spots completely filled. All agreed concurred rallied. To do something that serves others. To reach out up help)

This. Finding a way to truly honor the beautiful lives and moments we have lost. Seems like the most simple honest truth. And healing.

May we always find our way to making the world a better place. For those left behind. For those most vulnerable. A place to channel our love for those whom we can no longer physically be with. So that beauty and peace and kindness. Prevails.

(Photo of our Christmas Village set up by Macy and Ella yesterday afternoon)