Blocked by Boulders of Grief

Where is the dynamite when it is needed?

This morning when I wrote my usual morning thoughts my mind went down into my memory bank and rummaged around. It came back with all the wonderful springs Larry and I celebrated when we lived in the snowy and frozen Midwest.

I wrote about how much joy we got when we saw signs of rebirth happening all over our yard. We loved to garden. We had so many beautiful plants, flowering shrubs and bulbs and seeing them bud and struggle to push through the ground was something we treated with respect.

There is so much energy in plant growth that we take for granted.

It was within my memories that I realized I am not moving forward, I am pushing forward, like those plants.

It takes a lot of energy to push forward. Some days I cannot summon that energy and that is when I am in the depths of my grief wilderness and boulders block my pathway.

Where is the dynamite when it is needed?

No dynamite, then where is a pickaxe and shovel?

When I am thrown down to the ground in my wilderness, I have no tools. I only have my bare hands and my bare heart.

I can use my shoulder to move through the rubble, but it rarely works. I meet resistance with every attempt.

I look around for the pickaxe and the shovel. I know why I cannot find them. Finding them would make the destruction I am left with too easy to navigate, and there is nothing easy in being suddenly left behind in the dark world of grief.

If we did not love, we would not grieve. If we did not love, we wouldn’t have wounds that do not heal, reminding us that healing will never be complete.

Color me claustrophobic.

When I am above ground and freed temporarily from my wilderness, I have anxiety any time I am in a tight space, or a crowded elevator, or even a crowd of people.

Below ground I see all these boulders surrounding me, and my chest grows so heavy that breathing is difficult.

Then I ask myself what it would feel like if I had no grief, and I realize that if I had no grief, I would never have experienced a burning, passionate love and wouldn’t that be the real tragedy?