Love and Loss

Today is the 6th anniversary of my mother's passing. I still struggle with the word 'death' in relation to my mum. Because the truth is, she is not dead but still very much alive in my world. With the passing of time, the trauma of what happened on this day, 6 years ago are not as present- though if I allow myself to connect with it, the experience is still vivid. With the passing of time, the emotions surface- catching me unaware- disconnected with the events- abstract- unpredictable- a burst. I was sitting in a taxi this morning, en-route to a meeting- looking out of the window of the taxi, snow outside, grey morning- FLASHBACK- funeral, sitting in front of the hearst, my mum in a coffin behind the glass window- the glass that divided the living from the dead; me from her; my life as it was to the life it was unfolding- in her present absence- one *&$king piece of glass- a lifetime. In that moment in the taxi, I was awash with grief- once more. 6 years later. Still.

From that date, a lot has changed inside of me. I could say that I hold onto things more lightly- I could also say that I care less. Things oscillate between mattering and not mattering; important and not important- I care much and I care less. My thoughts drift to how I feel about me- mattering and not mattering. Just before writing this, I read Paul Barber's newsletter about Love- I assume it is in relation to Valentine's Day. It occurred to me while I was in the hospital- my mother in a coma-- making the final decision to disconnect the life-support machines...that if I were to make the decision to bring an end to her on the 14th, Valentine's Day would never be the same again. I was thinking of celebrating- not being able to enjoy the 14th again. But now, I with Paul's quotes fresh in my head, I am connecting with loss and love- grieving because of love. Feeling deep sense of loss for the space that is now empty. I thought writing about this would make me feel 'better'- it doesn't.

Ever since the Singapore coaching conference when I had to borrow someone's room for an afternoon- and saw, what I assumed was like her 'travelling shrine', I had taken to carrying around with me, a bit of 'home' to hotel rooms. There is a small, round photoframe with a photo taken with my mum and dad when I was about 28 years old. This photoframe sat on the glass shelf in our home in Toronto. The home was sold 6 months after my mum died. As I looked into our faces in this small photo, I could see how young we all looked. Then I realised that I am now only about 12 or so years away from the same age my parents were when that photo was taken. I was struck by how quickly time passes. It seems so futile that we spend so much time running around---that I spend so much time---thinking that things matter---when, before I know it, my time is up. I struggle to connect with what really matters and who are the people who really matter to me- including me. Then the thought- how am I spending my time? Does it matter?

Harmony

I am writing this blog sitting on a train from Milford to Grand Central Station in New York City. We have been spending four days with our colleagues in the US and Canada on a special retreat updating each other on how we have been working with our programme- the Leadership Development Intensive (LDI). It has been a very intensive time together- connecting, sharing and learning.

 
Our colleagues, Lynnea and Michael in Milford generously opened their house to all of us which made the gathering extra special because of the homely and intimate environment. Michael is a fiendish cook. We were blessed with three straight days of the most incredible weather. Each day greeted us with the most amazing sunrise. I took to walking in the mornings with Plum- enjoying her bright chatter, great conversations and walks along the water’s edge. Truly magnificent.

 

And---

in the midst of all of this, Harmony. Lynnea and Michael's two cats of which one in particular, Harmony, sat and slept on my bed every night while we were there. She is more mamacita than feline. So to move her off the bed was nigh on impossible. My unconscious kicks in the night were met with a big soft ball of fur----and my remorseful ‘oh god, sorrys...’ were met with a few mere twitches of the ears. Unusually for me, being more of a dog person than a cat person, I was surprised at how much I connected with their spirits. I felt I ‘understood’ their energies and ‘read’ their needs and for the first time in my life, felt close to the spirit of these cat-beings. What a great life! Harmony sat on the bed, purring and curled up pretty much all day, wandering around when it suited her, ate- or not- when it suited her.  Most of her time was spent calmly looking around, washing herself, padding around and enjoying being stroked and tickled. WHAT A LIFE! I learned so much from her. Being with her also helped me to connect with the playful and wonderous child in me- to be silly and cooing. I took to this ‘mantra’ for both Harmony and myself---‘I am a cat, I am a cat, I am nothing but a puddie tatt...’ Meow! As I laughed at my own silliness, my mind wondered what connecting with the ‘feline’ in me will bring...I’m smiling...like the cat with the cream. Meow!

9/11 Memorial

The whole area was smaller than I had imagined. It is still a large building site. A big tall glassy tower is being constructed that is suppose to be the 'new' WTC equivalent. South Pool. Large. The water was mesmerising. Fire. Water. Thousands and thousands of running beads of light----glassy, cascading golden crystal  beads running towards a flat spreading pond of moving water---water slowly pouring into a large, black VOID. This large hole is like a permanent dug grave, open, waiting- it's cold open mouth gaping. The POWER of this BIG BLACK SQUARE HOLE came from it's hollowness- it's dark absence draining life from the liveness around it. What intrigued me was the contrast between the hurtling liveness and the black lifelessness of the draining void. This black void left me with a quiet unease. I am puzzled and disturbed by it's power. I wonder how deep this space is and why it is a memorial. Perhaps it is fitting how this void commemorates both the dead and the missing- the absence of life that once was and how life in this city will forever be marked by an empty space and how, for some people, this void could and would never be filled.

Photo taken on 23rd January 2013, 9/11 Memorial.