Wednesday, June 08, 2005

The scent of the flower lingers on the giver's hands

A week or so ago, I wrote about being afraid of myself and the world. I wrote about realizing that I hadn't gone beyond necessary movements in my life since losing my father. I was realizing how a loss of such magnitude freezes you and makes your life stagnant with grief and fear.

Fear is a lion stalking your path, with steady breathing on your heels. The lion is my imagination; the breath my own. Fear is my enemy - trying to numb my pain, it will numb my mind, my spirit, my life.

This past weekend, I turned around on that lion, said "Boo," and watched it slink away. I had no intention of helping myself this weekend, that wasn't the goal when we tackled the yard. Nonetheless, that's what happened. It happened when I stopped thinking and started working. It happened when I pulled weeds by their roots from the earth. It happened each time I wiped the sweat from my brow. It happened when all it took to satisfy my need was a drink of water. It happened when I patted the moist dirt around the base of the newly planted plants. It happened when I fell asleep Sunday night with an exhaustion that was physical rather than emotional. It happened when I stopped looking inward, and started living outward.

I've learned enough about grief the past four months to know that this will circle back, my fear of living in a world without my father has not really been abated. But this weekend, I also learned that oftentimes the best medicine is to go on living.


Amanda B. said...

I saw your pic on SPD, nice job. Sorry about your father. :( Things will be ok sweetie as you already know.

wholl resources said...

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