“If I could define enlightenment briefly I would say it is the quiet acceptance of what is.”

–Wayne Dyer

I think I was grieving for a long time. A very long time. I think I still am. In so many ways. I did not realize this. Sadness and anger have followed joy and gratitude for life, along this long and winding pathway to healing. At times I have felt confused by the conflicting emotions. I have learned about the fragility of life and I have lived through the blessing of a miracle. For this, in so many ways, I am thankful. However, I have also become closely acquainted with what we humans call grief. Sadly, in so many ways, I believe myself undeserving of grief. That grieving means I am not grateful for the gift of my husband’s life. The father of our two young children, who love him beyond limits. The energy that fills our home when he is here with us. The hole that would have been left had he been taken from us that day.

I have struggled against the feelings of anger and despair. The sadness, due to other holes that have opened along the way. Some we know we will fill again. Others are uncertain. We have tried our best to allow ourselves to feel. To not numb ourselves against the pain caused by the losses. To not allow the anger and sadness to settle in our bones, but instead to allow it flow through and release. To not get stuck in the places one can get stuck after a trauma. To keep moving forward toward our future. Enjoying as much of the present as we can. Not getting caught in the entanglements of the past. A past we cannot change. A past that has been lived. The choices have been made. But I wonder, if we do not allow ourselves the right to grieve can we release all we need to release?

I think I am only able to look back at this now because I am starting to come to terms with the cards we have been dealt. The life we are now living. Both the triumphs and the struggles. The successes and the failures. The losses and the gains. The dark and the light. I think I am moving through grief and starting to move into acceptance. Allowing. Peace. Would I have gotten here more quickly though had I been more compassionate with myself and allowed myself to grieve? Instead of small, incremental steps could we have arrived here in a more timely manner? Would the journey have been less painful?

I can look back now and see that I held Chris away from me. I built a wall up around myself. I was having such a difficult time allowing myself to grieve so I held on to the anger I unconsciously felt toward him for almost leaving us. For not being a perfect husband as he also struggles to deal with his losses. I love him better for it now. I am starting to see him again. Not just myself and my grief. Not just him and his grief. A grief I would not allow myself to fully feel or even to really acknowledge.

I have held myself back from life in so many ways. Getting caught up in my need to control the world around me. Afraid if I was not on guard every single moment, something horrible would happen. To the kids. To Chris. To me. To someone I love. I am learning though that life is fundamentally beyond my control. I can guide it. I can give it direction. I can move toward the things that bring me joy and fulfill me. I cannot however, control every aspect of it. Truly, why would I want to. Because if I am so busy trying to control life into bringing nothing bad into our sphere, I am missing out on all of the beauty sitting on the periphery. The good that wants to enter our lives. The life waiting for us just beyond the next corner might be more beautiful and joyful than we could ever imagine. I will not see its light though if I am always focussed on the darkness.

Trauma has changed us. Somehow, trauma always breeds more trauma. This knowledge has also changed us. Grief has brought us to places we would not have willingly visited, given the choice. I feel like we are beginning to live again though. To feel again. Allowing ourselves to lean towards feelings of joy and hope. Learning it is okay to allow space for feelings such as sadness and anger. If not, numbness starts to become a way of life. Not even numbness though. More like a dull ache. A lingering sadness felt only in the deepest of bones. Though I have felt a soft happiness at times, joy has not spent much time in our home as of late. This needs to change. So, Chris and I are starting to dream again. To live more fully. To live with passion. To laugh with our children. To adventure with them. To show them that though life may at times bring darkness, light is always there with us. Growth is a part of life. Oftentimes, seeds are planted in the dark. It is only with reaching for the light, that we can truly become who we are meant to be. Humans beings each on our own unique journeys. Each journey allowed to be. Learning to accept the mountains and valleys for what they are. A little bit of life lived with each step.