Mourning

  

Mourning is such a strange process. 

I thought I figured out how it worked and how difficult it was when my mother died so many years ago. I've lost people since then, but this year presented a new challenge. This year I lost myself.

The person who navigated years of problems and came through them all okay in the end, disappeared in a haze of naive longing. 

Like a modern day fairy tale I was offered everything my heart desired. All I had to do was have faith and give up all my security. I did that! Little by little I broke all my hard and fast rules for survival. I ignored all the people whose advice didn't encourage me to do this. I was brave beyond belief.

And I was wrong.

The beast who lived on top of the mountain did not turn into a prince in disguise. He simply revealed a face that terrified me and then - ZAP - all the lovely promises and fulfilled wishes disappeared leaving behind a lonely shell of a woman. An empty shell waiting to be filled with something.

Anything! The person she had called herself for seventy years no longer existed. Everything that defined her had been sullied and torn down. Destroyed. And she was so far gone she didn't even know it.

Until today when I began to realize I am just now coming out of mourning a little bit. Time. It always takes time for things to grow, to heal, to become something new, especially when it must do this from the ashes. No one ever explains how the Phoenix does this; how difficult it is; how almost impossible it can be.

No one can do it for me and most people cannot even really help me. It takes someone with the patience of Job to drop bread crumbs in front of me and hope I notice them. My Muse has taken on that overwhelming task with unbelievable care.

Today I think I have taken one tiny step into the light of recovery.