By Nancy McMillan
“I’ve loved so much to be afraid of the night.”
Nancy McMillan
The stars are amazing for these cool nights. Good night, they will glow intently as they go out to look. The vastness is often too much. Force me to the limits of my understanding. This is the mood we can come when we tackle the death of someone we know. Where are you? So hereand now…where?
Of course, I’m in this mood, and with the recent death of my friend Alex. As I am not a close family, I have escaped the inclusive shock and sadness. But there is a way to grief, and it is commanded in itself. There must be a tendency to be a sacred friend. You are given space to feel the absence of the present. As the author of Die wiselyStephen Jenkinson said,Sadness is a way to love what slips out of sight. ”
I don’t think I’ll remember anything else soul It makes a lot of sense. To be sad means to call Full of soulsy. This can be difficult, but when accepted, there is something very convincing about it and actually makes us feel more lively.
That’s what it refers to death.
Mourning seems to be about our own deep loss. The words themselves are like conveying emotion resonance, long, painful, low moans when they ring. Mourning is a legitimate companion of sadness, but it is not sorrow itself.
Sadness is a more sharp pain, like I’m stinging something, like I’m experiencing it. It is personal, yet transcends individually. With its distinct animal intelligence, sorrow has its own life, and is best roamed by the slow, deep, winding pathways that are our soul path, and is sometimes assaulted by unsuspecting.
The complicated reality is that there are often many feelings, including regret, guilt and shame. And this can complicate and confuse things. Especially if we want Go back soon “usually,” That doesn’t change to our normal daily life.
As I’m paying attention to in my book, A call to the far coast: Carrying our loved ones after death, death, and beyond, I was surprised at my persistent guilt and lethargy week After my mother’s death. I was surprised because I believed I had done as much as possible to make my mother die. nevertheless… A hole has appeared. I wrote about this in the poem:
Mom, where are you?
After the festival that will take you to the door of death,
And bless your way with flowers, prayers and gentle holdings,
I am amazed at the hole, it tries to fill up,
Then I see the hole filled with regret, inadequacy, guilt. . .
It’s better to cry, filling the hollow space that tears tear with tears that brighten and warm.
Tears of praise and sadness, it gently carves the inner room,
– Cup, a stubborn spark that has now been distilled to fill my mother’s essence I love it going on.
We are Hardwired to find holes that we’ve done or didn’t do Not enough. Sometimes this type of suffering can lead us to the insights we need. But it can also drive away the old pathway of simply feeling inadequate. Healing occurs when we cannot push away any kind of emotions, and as this is the case, it makes them live with us, both raw and uncomfortable. And then we return to our centre.
What was restored by grief came more naturally than ever before. Now, often alone in our private small room, it’s much more difficult. It’s difficult, but it’s still possible. It is still necessary for our own health, and perhaps for the happiness of newly-dead people. Because it is a long journey to the far coast, and the river of tears is said to be a way for them to travel. 
When we create spaces for sadness, another dimension can come to reveal itself. We may even get hints of their presence and deep comfort that they want to bring.
Sorrow is a call to the soul, and in the stillness that comes after tears, an uprising may also be experienced: the pain and glow of the new planet born.
Alex sent us the following poem: It is sung in his service.
My soul may be set in the darkness, but it rises in full light. I have loved too lovingly to fear the night. – From “The Old Astronomer” by Sarah William in 1868
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About the author: Nancy McMillan is a registered psychotherapist and a certified practitioner of mental care with a master’s degree in education and theology and experience working in palliative care, intensive care, geriatrics, and bereavement. She lives outside of Kingston, Ontario.
Source: Spiritual Media Blog – www.spiritualmediablog.com
