Aging, illness, disease, death of ourselves and our loved ones. Opportunities for all of us to meet the challenge of physical and emotional discomfort with honesty and then with the strength of being in that honest and sometimes raw or devastating place.
To meet that place of discomfort with the same honest raw truth. Holding a space for that discomfort to be, to cradle that pain and not run away. The kind of pain that cannot be run away from, cannot be denied and fixed with pep-talk platitudes or distractions.
Grief repels platitudes. I know the world will be ‘alright’ again. I know I will laugh and return to some form of my previous life. I don’t need coaching on this, I’ve lived it before. I also have lived swallowing my sadness, anger, grief and discomfort to ease the discomfort of others in the face of my distress and pain. I understand this but I really don’t want to do this anymore; to myself or especially to those I love.
My invitation to myself and my friends is for all of us to hold each other in times or darkness. To just be with each other in a space and place of loving support.
I’m learning that not everything that happens to us can be fixed especially by me. I’m learning to stop offering solutions, especially obvious solutions that just fill that uncomfortable airspace that hovers when someone is in deep pain. Physically or emotionally. I’m learning to stop running, stop my racing mind of ‘fixes’, slow down and just breathe with my beloved that is in pain. I’m learning that to be with my discomfort in silence and allow my heart to hold Janet is the most courageous gift I can give her and myself.
I’m realizing that as we age we will have this standing invitation to be there for each other in the most honest way we can. I’m also realizing that we are all entering this new learning curve at different points on this journey. Sometimes we will be the pillar of support and sometimes we will be the puddle of tears that seem never-ending. The only real truth is that we will definitely be both of these at some point in our future.
It seems Janet and I have gotten the crash course in ‘hitting the brick wall’ these last two years. I learned so much from her steady calm but solid presence holding me as we both traversed my cancer journey. She allowed me to have and feel my pain, my discouragement, my deep grief that my life would never again be as it was. It hasn’t been and neither will Janet’s.
The tables have turned and this time I have been given the opportunity to hold her during her dark journey, the one of a life with vision loss. Our life holds a future neither she nor I ever imagined. What I am learning each day is that our future holds the gift of ‘being’ with each other as fully as possible, especially when the world is so raw and painful. When the world is just too fast, too cluttered with chaos and distractions.
I’ve had a full lifetime of fixing things that I can fix or design; I love creative challenges. I also love playing hard and especially swimming in rough waters. So does Janet, we both hope to return to some equivalent of this soon. The new challenge is also to embrace discomfort and physical decline with this same focus, strength and courage. This is a new huge learning curve that’s sure to have bumps and crashes along the way. Just ask a two-year-old, it’s about getting up and doing it again. We will all get it as we help each other to be honest and compassionate with all the bumps in the road ahead.
