The Brick Wall

The Brick Wall  The Brick Wall  The Brick Wall

This image has been with me for years. Since my baby Brian died. I kept running into it. Bang. Again and again. Over time and with much counseling I no longer bang into it. But it is still there. Since it is merely an image my mind created when my anguish and frustration was so intense and relentless, I wonder what would happen if I removed the image? I'm not bumping into it with rage like I did for years, but I know its there. I also know that bumping into it causes heightened pain and frustration and nothing changes. The wall remains.

The brick wall appeared when nothing changed the Truth: my baby was gone. That truth was so painful that it felt like banging my head on a brick wall. Since Ted has died the brick wall remains, but more as a remembered image than an obstacle of anguish. When Brian died, I did not want to face the truth of that. But now, I want to move forward faster. I'm not young. I don't have years available to torment over my loss.

I need to integrate memories into my life, but not let those memories rob me of my present. I look forward to replacing the image of the brick wall with many, many images of life with Ted and my life today: my family, my dear friends, my experiences, beautiful vistas and more to come. It should be easier to say goodbye to the brick wall and hello to images of my life. I would rather "see" those I loved than bang my head on a brick wall or even see that image and what it represented.

I love you Ted. It was a year ago that you entered the hospital the last time. When I went to see you early the first morning, you wept. The inflammation in your lungs had spread. Even then I couldn't imagine you not getting better. One week later you left me forever. I have a wonderful imagination and many photos so my memories can provide joy and laughter and delight for years to come.

I can see your face with tears in your eyes. Better than a brick wall.  I can hear your voice and your laughter. Better that a brick wall. I can see the beautiful blue of your eyes. Better that a brick wall. I can see your hands. Better than a brick wall. I can see you with Gwennie (our doggie) snuggled  together in your recliner. Better than a brick wall. So many more images. Better than a brick wall.

Thank you for helping me find a way to remove the wall without denying the Truth.

Ebb and Flow

     After writing a post for this blog, I usually feel very high, exhilarated, and have a sense of well being.  But the "elevator effect" is still in effect at times and I tend to get melancholy again soon after. It is difficult to be motivated to write at these times.  I resist sharing the self-defeating messages that roam around my head. Even when I have thoughts of subject matter for a post, I don't sit down to write. Well, be that as it may, if my memory serves me well, I can recall the ideas later. If not, so be it. The last thing I want to do is beat myself up because I feel a little low. I truly believe these are the times when insights can be had.


     As I have learned, putting my feelings (especially when they threaten to overwhelm) in a broad perspective, seeing them at a distance or as they reflect natural and recurring events, helps me cope with the sadness and frustration: the ebb and flow of the tides; the death of some plants in the winter only to see them return in the spring; the tiny green shoots pushing though thick layers of ash (death) to go to the light and life to name a few. I ponder these and reflect on my gloom and am encouraged that these feelings are part of a natural process that I will come through.


     I don't feel so alone. I feel more patient with myself. 


     I feel hope.