Write what you know.. write what I know. Those words from Stephen King’s book play over and over in this overwhelmingly painful day.
It’s amazing how cruel life can be to a hopeful spirit. I don’t blame anyone who cannot handle it, it’s as though being shot with a gun. Before I let my understanding of life open up even further, I’d call it the “devil trying to bring me down.” While I still believe in God, I will not simplify it that easily. Besides a nagging inside that does not want to limit the messages I try to send back to the universe that is looking for answers, I don’t dare suggest I know why things happen, only that they do, and what we do with them can help so many in so many ways. I still believe that, through my own personal pains are deep today.
As I posted my article on my own pains this morning, there was a message to me on Facebook from a friend letting me know a wonderful human being from the church I work at had passed away. The tears that were rolling already just poured out further. I don’t think I’ve ever spent more hours continually crying as I have today. But I do know I spent many more painful moments not shedding a tear. I suppose in some strange way, that’s progress.
I had just spent an amazing afternoon this week with this woman. Alive with inspiration like never before, for those few that follow my blog have seen, I took time to share things with this woman that came to mind at the moment. Every month at my work, there is an “Afternoon Women’s Guild” meeting where the older female members of our congregation meet to regroup, energize, form ideas and share in joy in their own way, all in service to their God. I had been looking at things set up in the gym and had this brilliant crazy idea of further promoting this “Rummage Sale” we have every year at the end of September, by taking pictures of some of the more strange things that I saw.
While waiting for the meeting to begin, a few of the ladies that come to this meeting followed me in, and we “shopped” together as I took my pictures. One of them was a lady named Karolyn Allison. Karolyn is one of those souls. Though much older than I, through the work I’ve done unlimiting myself, (a forthcoming topic and series I hope to share) I got to know pretty well. A feisty, fun, interesting woman who loved life, she’d call every now and again to say “What’s happening over there?” More often than not, and as I stopped letting my own life get in the way of how I could brighten others by doing so, I’d take time to talk to her. Grateful even now for that enlightenment, amidst this pain am I, for not barking at her that I have no time for her old lady needs so goodbye. Its something we can tend to do, lost in our own problems.
Well as we shopped she mentioned the cookbooks and where were they. The space my head has been, in since the opening of it, so alive with thoughts I was constantly feeling headaches. So without thinking, I tried to tell her about how she could find so much more if she had a computer and all these other things she could do to make her life easier. This lead to other talks and our discussions went on, the three of us, as I took pictures and we shopped, and she shared some amazing things with me, and some that after my head is clearer, I will try to do for her what she will no longer be able to do now.
One of those things, I hope, is reconnecting a biological relative that was adopted and was looking for birth connections, secretly, as so not to hurt her adopted family. Oh the deep chills I feel inside as I recall the details, further I can prove there are no coincidences. But back.. as I am adopted, I was able to tell her in a way she didn’t understand, of the meaning behind the call, the need the girl had, and how lucky the girl was that she called Karolyn. Karolyn had hoped soon to meet her,and wished she could see what she looked like. The girl lives in Florida, and over the winter when she visited other family there, she’d meet her she hoped. The more I told her about what I thought was behind the call, the more inspired and brightened she became. In my hasty gibberish thoughts spoken aloud that day, I told her just give the girl my email, I’ll get pictures and you can see them anytime. I’d even bring over my computer to her house. I can still see how lit up her face was, and how grateful I am this, if had to be, was our last conversation. We were almost yelled at by the other members of the group because we were in there so long talking. I have never done that before, and was feeling guilty for wasting work time gabbing. Even as we walked out we had more to say to each other. It was a moment I could never forsee would come back to me, like Karma.
I do not feel sorrow for her or her family in the sense that she had so many people who loved her, she knew she was loved, and even until the day she died she lived and cherished her family and friends. She looked forward to life, even under painful problems too, she found comfort in people and the world and gave back in the ways she could.
Also, the sorrow I feel is not because I didn’t do enough. The path that I’ve been on, led me to a place that I could appreciate at least this beautiful soul placed in my life, I had no regrets of time lost on my busy life. In fact, I was proud. Proud of the human being I am and the things I believe in and what living the way I preach and teach can do.
I am only sad for her loss today because I am so sad. Because I’ll never get a phone call from her again, or be in her physical presence. Because I didn’t get to show her the internet or what it does to simplify her crazy life. Because I didn’t get to show her that relative’s pictures. Because I am alone, the man I love and feel will never see again because I didn’t do things right, because I am questioning things about myself and what I’m doing and if I’ll ever have that family I want to help so much. But even at this moment, as I try to regroup, I see the magic connections once again slowly, hopefully pulling me back, and the maybe start seeing any meaning behind the cruel acts the pile on me, that I am so undeserving of.
So, I guess I just wanted to write it all out, find some understanding and give hope back because I feel guilty when I pour out articles of hopelessness. While I am deeply wounded and sad, stomach turning and drained, I am coming at least one step closer, back to the place I need to be. Scarred with another learned lesson all the same. I guess they call those, “battle scars.”
With a heavy sigh, and tears again, I wish you a “Happy Sunday,” thank the little flower that commented this morning once again, and thank Karolyn for sharing her life with me, and even now, sending the signs I needed reaffirming my need, through my painful day.