Archive for the ‘Grief’ Category

Curled up

at my feet

in a ball

of grey

you sleep.

There was that time

when she did, too.

If there is a Truth

in this life

it is anicca.

She left that body

and left an imprint

of her presence

on my heart.

Will you?

Note: ‘Anicca’ is the Pali language word for ‘impermanence’.


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Two words, one phrase, one reality, one life in those two little words.

Here, in the city I live in, someone I knew well, was found shot, dead at her home two nights ago. A murder-suicide they call it. Husband/dad shot and killed wife/mother and son, nine years old. He was depressed. Maybe hopeless, hurting, and in financial trouble with no job for a year.

My dad is depressed, so lonely, talks incessantly, his thoughts confused, his mind leaping with connections that are starting to not make sense, and unable to sleep. Oh so sad to watch him in such pain.

I am depressed. My chest hurts (not metaphorically) as I breathe.

What some people had said to me as a way of cursing me or with disgust or with anger, is what I have become.

I have become my dad.

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I have a little secret desire. No one knows it. No family, no friends, no virtual friends, not my therapist, nor my Dr. I will tell you what it is though, gentle reader. Here it is: I want to melt into oblivion. I want this Life to end, I also want this Death to end, I want it all to end. I am a flawed flawed human being, who does the best she can every moment, every day, and suffers, because in the end it’s my own attachment, my desire to not accept things as they are. Buddha knew. Life has suffering built into it. The origin of suffering is attachment. It is possible to end this suffering. They way to do that is the Eightfold path, a middle way. (no extremism) I’ve been walking that path the best I can, with what capacity I have. I am tired though, I want to lie down under a tree in the shadow, take deep breaths, and merge into nothingness. I want Nirvana, the Ultimate Reality, the True Freedom.

I want to dive from a tall mountain into a valley and disappear, as though I never existed, and never will.

Is suicide another path out?

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I am shivering in the cold.

May I open your skin, crawl inside, wrap you around my body like a warm blanket?

I can hear the content in your voice, the Happiness.

It sickens me.


Why did you not choose me?

I am happy. For you.

Fly away.

Last night I listened to Ajahn Brahm’s dharma talk on Love. He said, most times when people think they love someone, they actually love the way that person makes them feel. He gave this little example. If you truly loved your partner and s/heĀ  runs away with the milkman, you should be very happy. I mean, isnt’ that love? That you want them to be happy? Well, now they are happy! Instead, you would probably not be happy at all. Why is that? Because you want them to be with you. But what if being with the milkman is what makes them happy? I thought, well, I’m not angry that S has chosen someone else. So, I’m okay. I truly do love S. Then it occured to me that I may not be angry but I sure am deeply sad. And why should that be? Isn’t it because I wanted him to choose me? Instead he chose someone else. If I truly love him, then I should be happy. I look within. I am happy that he is happy. I am also sad. I suppose I truly love him and also love the way I feel when he was around me.

Now, the possibility is gone.

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An end and a beginning

Here, my marriage is on the verge of ending.

There, S is getting married, beginning a commitment, to someone he has met once, but believes that she is the piece of the puzzle that was missing.

Their family will be transformed from a triangle into a square.

I am alone.

I am so happy for him, wish him from my heart, want him to be happy in this marriage.

I am also so sad, the word “sad” cannot possibly contain the angst, the depth of my melancholy.

It was my fantasy, that sometime in the future, S and my paths would cross again, we would re-connect, he would realize that I am the one he is meant to be with after all.

What is missing for me is anger, and I don’t feel any. Do I need to feel anger to move toward total acceptance?

I leave it up to Rumi to explain my feelings for S, as they have always been, still are.

The minute I heard my first love story,

I started looking for you,

not knowing

how foolish that was.

Lovers don’t finally meet somewhere.

They are in each other all along.

S, you were always in me, I was always in you. Still was, still am.

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Come back

When I walk past the deck door, I still glance out through the glass and look for my baby. Is she waiting by the door pawing at it? Does she want to be let in? Is she waiting patiently? It was me who took her to the vet more than six months ago to end her life. She was in visible pain, unable to eat, unable to even move much in the throes of kidney failure. Oh, the denial, the deep wrenching sadness, tears that are sitting at the edge of my heart but won’t spill. I miss my Billoo, my baby with a ferocious pain. Without thinking logically, I still wait for her to show up at my door. Maybe, just maybe, she will be there again and I will open the door and let her in and she will sit on my lap and purr and take my hand with her paw and place it on her heart and I will hug her and kiss her and she will fall asleep in my lap and warm me inside and outside and she will wake up and eat hungrily and lap up her water from a glass not a dish and watch the birds from the windows and terrorize the neighbor cats and I will love her and she will get inside my comforter and we will fall asleep back to back holding each other’s hands.

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He is oh so busy lately, sleeping not till 2 am, with work, his mom, lunches, vedic astrology, outings. No time for me, to talk to me.

And the one I live with swings between anger and lust and friendship. I feel tired around his energy.

I want to curl up and sleep a dreamless, content sleep.

I am so aimless, where is this life heading? I want to run away. Start over.

Sadness is creeping over me while I’m waiting for the medicine to do its’ thing.

Much metta to me, to all tonight.

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