Today is 3 years since my Sisters accident.
My mom asked me months ago how I was doing so much better than her. How I was healing, when she was stuck.
I was conflicted about the question. Because I could see how I had made more forward movement than her, but I didn’t feel “healed.” I did feel healing, yes. But the freedom associated with the word healing still felt somewhat foreign, like it didn’t quite belong to me. Like freedom & healing would mean that I was ok, & being ok would mean that I wasn’t sad anymore, & not being sad anymore would mean that I was at peace with my sister being gone, & peace was not something I was ready to hold for that.
And while I haven’t released the full weight of my grief and longing (& I do think you can have one without the other, & someday I will) I could see something different in me. I mean, obviously. I was off the numbing agents, I was smiling more and feeling good more. & I wondered, what is this made out of? I love Jami as much as my mom. I miss her as much as my mom. Even if the flavor of hurt differed, I hurt, as much as my mom. So how did I get here, & not stay there?
And I realized this: My life got bigger. If you read my last post (which has nothing to do with this, & also everything) well, my pot size increased. & when my roots had room to extend, I had room to grow. My life became small when my suffering was so big. & I’ve let my life become so big, so that grief was no longer all encompassing, but safely encompassed.
I’m not in a hurry to release my grief, because I’m not swallowed by it anymore. Because I’m not afraid of it anymore. It’s an indicator of my love & my longing & our connection, & I feel safe to experience it again and again until the energy begins to transmute. Into art, & writing, & passion, & further connections, & healing to others.
It already has. My intention in it all is to keep my heart open, so the light can reach the places it needs to. So that I may become fuller, & not farther from who I am. Because I can think of no better way to honor my Sissy Poo Jame Jame “Child” (she loved that one...) than to become the highest and greatest, & fullest, expression of me that I can.