Today has been so special, and I am appreciative that so many of my friends and family went out of their way to help make my birthday a day I won't soon forget. I received countless birthday wishes from literally around the world. I particularly appreciate my brother, Dick, and his wife, Mary, and especially my brother-in-law, Roy, and sister, Terri, who worked so hard in the heat of the day to make Gwen's Garden a reality. And then there was daughter, Anne, who helped in so many ways and arranged a dinner at Webber's Restaurant where we met nephew Jason and his wife Amanda and nephew Tom.
Now we'll wait for nature to take its course and for the garden to bloom. There's something so rightly symbolic about that-- like the plants that now must become established, send out roots, prepare to blossom, and bring some beauty to the world, those of who grieve are also in the same situation. We find ourselves moved to a new environment, our previous home where we were established and just going along, living and growing, was suddenly taken from us, and now we must somehow survive the shock of being transplanted into a world we didn't choose. Not only that, we must become strong and independent like we were before our lives were turned upside down. Of course, not everyone makes it--some wilt in the heat of the sun and curl up and die. That won't be the case with me or any of the many strong people I know who are determined to find meaning in a life where much of what gave it meaning has been removed.
Part of this process involves wearing masks. Today at dinner I was happy as could be to be with those who love me, yet, at times I would catch myself staring into space at nothing. Except, it wasn't nothing I was seeing; I was looking at Gwen, remembering the last time she and I had enjoyed a meal at that restaurant. Was it rude of me to disrespect those who showed me so much love by not being fully engaged with them? I don't believe so. One of my grieving friends, Ginette, put it well: the confusion between accepting all the love coming your way but feeling oddly alone - wanting more. What pain and joy sits in your heart! Those of us who grieve often talk about how we put on masks in order to function in social situations. This is an anonymous poem about masks that I heard a long time ago:
Beneath the Mask
Masks reveal what they conceal.
By donning some masks but not others,
people disclose precisely
what they would most shield.
Indeed, a person does not hide behind a mask
so much as struggle beneath the weight of it.
Anonymous, circa 1982
It is a struggle, Dear, wearing the mask that says I'm happy when I still miss you so much. I've always prided myself on being honest and open, and there's something about feeling as though I'm wearing a mask that doesn't sit well with me. My fellow travelers on this road we didn't choose to travel will understand; we beg the indulgence and forbearance of our friends and family.
Now we'll wait for nature to take its course and for the garden to bloom. There's something so rightly symbolic about that-- like the plants that now must become established, send out roots, prepare to blossom, and bring some beauty to the world, those of who grieve are also in the same situation. We find ourselves moved to a new environment, our previous home where we were established and just going along, living and growing, was suddenly taken from us, and now we must somehow survive the shock of being transplanted into a world we didn't choose. Not only that, we must become strong and independent like we were before our lives were turned upside down. Of course, not everyone makes it--some wilt in the heat of the sun and curl up and die. That won't be the case with me or any of the many strong people I know who are determined to find meaning in a life where much of what gave it meaning has been removed.
Part of this process involves wearing masks. Today at dinner I was happy as could be to be with those who love me, yet, at times I would catch myself staring into space at nothing. Except, it wasn't nothing I was seeing; I was looking at Gwen, remembering the last time she and I had enjoyed a meal at that restaurant. Was it rude of me to disrespect those who showed me so much love by not being fully engaged with them? I don't believe so. One of my grieving friends, Ginette, put it well: the confusion between accepting all the love coming your way but feeling oddly alone - wanting more. What pain and joy sits in your heart! Those of us who grieve often talk about how we put on masks in order to function in social situations. This is an anonymous poem about masks that I heard a long time ago:
Beneath the Mask
Masks reveal what they conceal.
By donning some masks but not others,
people disclose precisely
what they would most shield.
Indeed, a person does not hide behind a mask
so much as struggle beneath the weight of it.
Anonymous, circa 1982
It is a struggle, Dear, wearing the mask that says I'm happy when I still miss you so much. I've always prided myself on being honest and open, and there's something about feeling as though I'm wearing a mask that doesn't sit well with me. My fellow travelers on this road we didn't choose to travel will understand; we beg the indulgence and forbearance of our friends and family.
1 comment:
What a perfect way to describe a mask John. Happy belated Birthday. Good to hear you had a wonderful day even as hard as it was.
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