Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Lessons In Disguise

We are only born once into life 
but in life we are reborn many times.

I am honouring myself.
I am declining invitations. I am letting the phone ring. 
I call in 'sad', or 'tired' to life's obligations if I need to spend time with myself.

I broke a mirror last week. There is a crack in my reflection. There is a long line right down the centre of my own image. We are meant to look deeper at ourselves when we are broken. We need to be brutally honest and confront what we feel, even if it hurts. We need to accept what is, even if we don't like it. We need to display what we are made of, even if we are still figuring it out.

There are many arms outstretched. There are many hearts being offered to fill the piece of mine that is missing. There are tears being shed on my behalf when I've cried out all of my own. My heart is beating in a new rhythm that I am still learning.

Something in me broke free, releasing things that were being blocked. It felt like a broken rib, and it hurts with every breath taken until it heals. In the last month it felt like part of my heart was taken from my chest, reversed, flipped inside out and shown to me: 
This is what it looks like. This is what you're doing. This is why it hurts.
And then put back in it's place to say "Now deal with it, and have nice day!"

The Universe doesn't throw any more at us than it thinks we can handle.

In the past month I have experienced some tough lessons, some heartbreaking losses, some life altering changes.

I asked for more consistency in my life, so I take responsibility for manifesting this. 
I asked for people I can trust. To know who is in my life for the right reasons. For love that is transparent and kind. A solid foundation. A stable home. A strong support system.
The Universe said "Ask and you shall receive":

Friendships and relationships ended. 
I let go of the damage and made room for forgiveness. That hurt, but it's getting better.
I bought a new car and let go of the one with all the funny quirks. That was exciting.
My grandmother's health took a turn for the worse. I was there for her last moments. I wrote a eulogy for her funeral. I watch my grandfather every day trying to recover from losing his other half. That is devastating.
I moved houses. That was tiring. Stressful at times. Still hoping to find time for a nap soon.
I was laid off from my job and hired by another company a few hours later. I'm still with the company as needed and working with them from my new job, so it's not goodbye. Definitely disappointing, but change is good. The new job comes with many exciting opportunities and fulfilment.

New job, new home, new car. I can't imagine a clearer slate.

Here's to new beginnings and trusting that everything happens for a reason.
Understanding that the Universe made these choices on my behalf to give me what I need.
This or better, thank you.

Song of the day: Go First - Rose Cousins

Thursday, March 14, 2013

What Happens When You Have To Live Without The Person You Can't Live Without.

They left me with your shadow, saying things like "life is not fair". And I believed them for a long time. But today, I remembered the way you laughed and the heat of your hand in mine, and I knew that life is more fair than we can ever imagine if we are there to live it.
-Storybook People

It's always such a heart breaking moment - the one in which we realize that someone we love is no longer with us

There's a longing, knowing I no longer have a grandmother's lap to rest my head. When I am tired and weak, she is no longer my resting place.

There's an ache. When I just want to call you… when I just want to hear your voice. Even if it’s just for you to ask me about the weather or tell me what you had for dinner. Those were our conversations sometimes.

As Baba’s only granddaughter. I had a very special bond with her, being Baba’s little girl.
I fed her the last meals, I kissed her the last goodnight, I held her hand just before her life slipped from it. I knew before the phone rang that she was gone.

I've been thinking of the sentiment: "I can't live without you". Some of the sweetest words, to believe in and value someone so much, you can't imagine a single day without them.

But when that day comes, what happens when we have to live without the person we can't live without? We find that sun the sun still rises, we're still breathing, still taking one step after another, and our hearts are still beating -- even if its slower.

My grandparents were married for 58 years. They are the couple I look up to when I think of a perfect love. In 1955 he swept her off her feet. He asked to share a life with her. You can see it in all the photographs throughout the years. The bliss and love on their faces. There are so many photos of her smiling at the camera while he smiles at her. This is how we love -- in awe of the life we've created.

Near the end of her life, when we saw her getting tired, I asked myself that question: "how will he live without her?" For 58 years, they built a life together. They worked together, travelled together, raised a family together, grew old together. I've been living with Gido since a few days before she passed. We sit together, we eat breakfast together. He makes me so proud. He and Baba showed me what it is to love and cherish. And now they are showing me what it is to keep on after the one you love is gone. 

On Christmas Eve in 2011, I spent my evening cuddling with Baba in her hospital bed during one of the times she had been admitted for her heart. We lay there together and I asked her for the secrets to a good marriage and her bread recipe. I’ll never be able to get that dough like she did. It doesn’t matter if we used the exact same recipe step by step, there’s something about the way Baba makes it that we’ll never be able to. She loved to make things for the family, whether it was food or crafts, she liked keeping her hands busy. Rolling perohy, holubtsi, cross stitch, paper tool, knitting… A couple years ago she knitted me mittens. Her dexterity wasn't very good at this time so it may have been one of her last projects. It took her a while to finish them, and they’re very special. One of them has a heart on it. And the other one has a big letter U. 
Love you.

As for the secret to marriage, she responded that the secret is…
Be calm. Talk nice. Don’t fight. And if he wants to have something different for dinner than you do, that’s okay.

Gido told me that on the day she passed, he prayed to God,
 “Lord… take her to your garden, and make her blossom again”

I wonder how many pieces of my heart will remain at the end of my life. When someone passes it truly feels like part of our hearts went with them. It's inevitable that many people we love will leave us in our lifetime. Do we have an infinite amount of heart-pieces?

I'd like to think that with every loss and every break, our heart grows. There is a heart shaped piece with Baba's name on it that I hope she takes with her wherever she is. But I think in return, my heart has grown two sizes from all the love I received from her throughout my lifetime.

There's a comfort in knowing that she's no longer hurting. There's a security in the feeling that she's always watching over us.

I feel it when I'm going to sleep at night. I feel it when I wake up to a new day. I feel her. And I know that she's here.

Your fingerprints are left on our hearts. Every ounce of love you have to give is received.

Thank you. We miss you. We love you.

Song of the day: Carry You Home - James Blunt

Monday, March 4, 2013

Time Is Passing, And You Right Along With It

These words have been running through my head this week... Trying to write but I'm not sure how to put down these emotions yet.

I could hook up my heart to your ears and let my tears be your morphine drip
because maybe it's easier to let you slip away than it is to say goodbye

So I hold my breath
Because in the countdown to death the question of "why" melts into "when".
How much time do we have left? Because if I knew what I know now then...
Move pen move. Write me a mountain. Because headstones are not big enough.
My mother says stop it. Write me a poem to make me happy.
So I write this:
She smiles and says "gotta go"
I know.

Move Pen Move - Shane Koyczan