The bittersweet process of grieving

Grief (duelo), in my experience of loosing my baby, is like a new building falling.

It took so long to plan it, build it, see it rise every month, see the movement inside it, the decoration, the light. And when it is completely built, it falls down. I cannot put the pieces together. At first there is only a fall, the world falling apart and it is literally un-believable. The fall is followed by a cloud of thick unbreathable dust. The dust does not let me see nor breath. I don’t know where I am, lost, where is anything? Where is the building? what happened? There is a complete emptiness and a hollow black hole in my chest. Only dust, but the inner feeling says there is light, unbelievable light and energy behind the dust. Being in this dust, for me was like being in a raging salty sea, under the breaking waves, where nothing makes sense. There is only confusion.

One day, when the dust settles, I can see slightly more clearly. All this dust takes ages to settle, and I’m angry because it takes so long. The confusion gives into fear and realising what has happened. Looking for answers, for comfort, facing the mess, the falling of dreams and hopes, the destruction of doctrines. At the same time, a great peace prevails, nothing moves, everything just is. No thoughts, no doctrines, no philosophies, just pure humanity, as if the body had been skinned and I can see the real flesh inside the humans, the physical stuff of what we are made of. The strength is gone, though. No wish for starting to clean the dust, just to see the beauty of it. When the dust has settled, the sky can be seen more clearly. And that means it is time to start cleaning. Oh dear pain! Cleaning the precious pieces that made up that building, is nothing I want to do. I just want to see the building rise in its magnificence, but instead I have to clean it, as if it had been unworthy. Every precious piece that with so much love and care we built, is now dust. Oh dear rage!

The sky reminds of a wider world, but I need to clean. The cleaning is painful, as painful as the cervix opening. Letting go, releasing of everything I was, I am, I will be. All ideas, all thoughts, all wishes, all dreams, all pains, all memories. Releasing, dying in me. In the cleaning, I do not see what comes after, though I think about it all the time. The cleaning takes so much time. I will not know the next step until the cleaning is done. This bittersweet cleaning and healing.

There will be more buildings around, yet this hole remains as a precious reminder of love beyond this world.

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