The Cost Of Loving
A couple weeks ago now, I had a breathwork session for myself and, since it was the first time breathing since my grandma passed, I knew there were a lot of tears to be shed. (I wrote a tribute to her on the socials here). True to form, my old friend Grief showed up with a slightly new flavor with this fresh new loss and I left the clinic with mascara-less eyelashes, but feeling a deep sense of groundedness and connection… a connection not only to both my loved ones and my grief, but to Life itself.
With the gentle witnessing of my space holder and the coaxing of my breath, I was able to allow the heart-cracking-open deep well of sadness fill my body as we acknowledged that my relationship with grief work is a special one. It takes bravery and courage and the willingness to be overtaken by however it wants to show up. Because no matter how often we’ve experienced grief in the past, it’s still hard. It often still hurts. Even with feeling connected to our loved ones beyond the veil, the space where their physical presence once was in our lives will always be missed.
In the last handful of years, I’ve had the blessing with the opportunity to walk two special people to the threshold between life and death, my grandma being the most recent one. I’m proud of myself for rising to the occasion. For showing up. Near the end of my breathwork session a couple weeks ago, an image of my dad popped in. An image of his cancer-ridden body near the end and I felt my heart say, “see Dad! I can do it! I can show up for this stage of life! My 12 year old body maybe didn’t know what to do with it all and I did the best I could, but I have the tools now to help me navigate and be here with it.”
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Because that’s the other thing about grief. Once you’ve experienced it, you know that the cost of loving is to feel the loss. We love despite the loss. Depending on how long I live and how deeply and openly I love (especially being a dog mama!), there are lots more opportunities for grief to come for me.
And my practice will be to not run away, but to stay and surf the waves and hold the space for all of it, as best as I can with the resources and capacity that I have.
That’s the cost of loving. And loving makes life worth living.
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