Waves

It’s a strange thing, grief.  We think of it as a process which moves in a linear way.  We think we are making progress forwards.  And then there is a moment, a memory, a scent, or piece of music.  Even the sight of a familiar food, and we are again ambushed by a wave of grief, washing over us.

Today, by some unseen alignment, two different posts arrived in my feed, both about grief and loss.  And at a time when there are seasonal prompts and reminders of my own grief. The birthday my father would have celebrated earlier this month.  The season reminding me that this time last year I made the sudden decision to return to Scotland to spend final days with my father.

Marie writes in her post, Still alive in a wound still fresh, about those unexpected moments when we see or read something which speaks to us with a strength which takes our breath away.  The other post I read today, beautifully titled Live forever, provides a privileged insight into the influences and memories of a mother and grandfather:

Two people who live forever in my heart had birthdays last week, my Grandfather and my Mother. Both were very dear to me during the time we shared and both continue to play a role in my life. They’re in my thoughts, my memories, my sense of who I am and how I want to lead my life

This resonates too with my own processing and coming to terms with that strangeness of grief.  I wrote last year that grief is within us, not without.  And that means that the love and memory for those we have lost lives on within us, along with the values and influences which shape and guide us.

Signs of spring - Lismore

Signs of spring – Lismore

The wound is indeed still fresh, our hearts still grieve.  Yet there is a gold nugget of life, that which lives on within us and which we must hold on to and cherish.

Advertisements

Slowly looking ahead

I am attempting to reconnect slowly.  There are so many heartfelt messages to respond to, the practical tasks to take care of, the need to take time with each other and the understanding that we are moving through this grieving process.

My father has been laid to rest, and I believe he is at peace on the island which was home. The winds howled, cancelling ferries the day before, the rains hammered down, warm words of comfort were shared and tears were shed.  It was surely a day to remember, for a multitude of reasons.  Those memories evoke a complex mix of sadness, loss, love, peace and thankfulness.

I am sharing here some of the words which were spoken, and some of the images of the day.

He is Gone

You can shed tears that he is gone,
or you can smile because he has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that he’ll come back,
or you can open your eyes and see all he’s left.
Your heart can be empty because you can’t see him,
or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember him only that he is gone,
or you can cherish his memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind,
be empty and turn your back.
Or you can do what he’d want:
smile, open your eyes, love and go on.”

(David Harkins)

***

 They are not dead,
Who leave us this great heritage of remembering joy.

They still live in our hearts,
In the happiness we knew, in the dreams we shared.

They still breathe,
In the lingering fragrance, windblown, from their favourite flowers.

They still smile in the moonlight’s silver,
And laugh in the sunlight’s sparking gold.

They still speak in the echoes of the words we’ve heard them say again and again.

They still move,
In the rhythm of waving grasses, in the dance of the tossing branches.

They are not dead;
Their memory is warm in our hearts, comfort in our sorrow.

They are not apart from us, but part of us,

For love is eternal,
And those we love shall be with us throughout all eternity.
Anon

***

Celtic Blessing
May the roads rise to meet you,
May the wind be always at your back,
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
The rain fall soft upon your fields
And, until we meet again,
May God hold you in the hollow of his hand.
Anon

Leaving Oban as the dawn breaks, over quieter waters than the eve

Leaving Oban as the dawn breaks, over quieter waters than the eve

DSC_0148 DSC_0149 DSC_0156

In this spirit, we are looking forward and preparing a fitting and meaningful plan in his memory.

The Malcolm Miller, of the former Sail Training Association (now Tall Ships Youth Trust) Image from http://www.orpheusweb.co.uk/bob.williams/sailtrain/1998-2001.htm

The Malcolm Miller, of the former Sail Training Association (now Tall Ships Youth Trust)
Image from http://www.orpheusweb.co.uk/bob.williams/sailtrain/1998-2001.htm