Anger Is My Default State When I've Experienced Loss

What do you think happens when we die? Maybe we come from somewhere out there in the Universe and our soul floats onto this giant blue rock in the middle of nowhere. When you think of it that way, we shouldn’t feel bad about not knowing what to do, or how to feel. Find Your Voice, Your Mission, Your Message emailed me one day. She asked if I knew a teacher or someone who could guide meditation privately, for a dear friend of hers. She didn’t elaborate much, but I volunteered to help in any way I could, and she introduced me to Grace. Grace was unmistakably positive and willing to go to any lengths to make sure Maggie knew that no one was giving up the battle. Without a thought, I joined Team Maggie and I contacted her that day. It was early spring, nearing sunset, and all the colors in the sky created patterns of light orange rays and deep reds. Grace had suggested that I bring anything I had in my tool kit, as Maggie was very open. When I met Maggie and her sister, Grace, for the first time, I was struck by their warmth and kindness. She was willing to do whatever it took to live. Maggie prepared some green tea while I laid out all my accoutrements.

Down All the Days

I explained that meditation had helped me create a deep level of listening, trust, and, well, grace. We took a few deep breaths, and I waited a few moments before I said a word. The love Maggie had for Grace. We sat there and talked for a few hours, getting to know each other, and listening with earnest attention. In a flash I was back in my childhood, recalling the power of community, prayer, and presence. The circle of abuelas, mamas, tías, and friends who gathered and prayed for loved ones, looking for hope, respite, comfort, and love. I was always inspired by how effortlessly they showed up to pray for someone they had never met. How they would hold one another’s hands, strangers at times. A genuine heartfelt desire to be with, to hold the pain, to have a desire for their suffering to end. The common theme, sitting in uncertainty together. It was getting dark, and I began to gather my things to make my way home. I headed toward the door where I had left my shoes.

Finding The Right Words To Say

Maggie came over, looked me in the eyes, and said, Rosie, can I ask you a question? I smiled as I tried to balance myself with one hand on the wall. The question was followed by a long, pregnant pause. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I gave her a big hug and said, We go back to where we came from. She paused for a moment, smiled, nodded, and shrugged, then headed back to the kitchen. I checked in with Maggie often. The following week she sent me a text message to inform me that she had named the amethyst crystal Purple Rain and had taken it to chemo with her as a reminder to do her meditation practice. Just a few short months later, Grace informed me that our beloved Maggie had passed. When Grace and I finally got to see each other again, we held each other in a pool of tears. Anger is my default state when I’ve experienced loss. I was always angry as a teenager because I believed that the world was out to get me, and I wasn’t going to let her come for me. She can live happily ever after now.

Bent, But Not Broken

Life doesn’t work that way. I was angry at the loss of life, losing people I cared about, angry about the injustices of the world. Why is this happening? How could this happen? That doesn’t make it any easier to sit with, because in moments of pain I feel like even though I can bend, I may break. Having spiritual tools doesn’t lessen the pain of a broken heart. What I do know is that I am still here, and so are you. Sometimes the other shoe drops, the wind is taken out of your sails, and you feel like you can’t go on. You have every right to feel the way you do. As I write this, I can tell you that in moments of pain, the only respite I get is taking the pain, an hour at a time, minute by minute, breath by breath. When the time is right, and you feel ready, you will feel ease and the pain will transform. When we choose to get closer to a higher power, it helps us weather the storms. For some that may be the help of a community who can support in carrying a burden. For others, it’s spending time in nature, seeing the beauty that exists all around us. Or it could be the realization that someone else has gone through the same pain you have and survived. The reason why writing about this is so difficult is that loss is never easy. You are resilient, you are strong, and you can withstand change. Make no mistake, your world will change. You are being asked to become more. This is the entire reason why we have a spiritual practice. You have worked diligently to prepare for moments like this, and you will ride the waves as best you can. If we look at our pain as a storm, we can harness its qualities to understand our own grief. We are the captain of our own ship. We need wisdom, strength, confidence, patience, and a vehicle. This is how we navigate the tide with the least amount of wreckage and come out on the other side stronger. It is often said that to love is to suffer, which I agree and disagree with. At its core, yes, being attached to someone or something we love, we will at some point experience pain.