Down the Rabbit Hole

You may know that I am engaged in a book study on a private blog, with three other bloggers who also happen to be mothers of children who have died. We are reading a book by an author I love (Joyce Rupp), called "Open the Door." Joyce Rupp came to our church and led a retreat years ago, and I attended it. We studied her books in Lectionary class. I am happy to be sharing this book with such a wonderful group of women.

The reading I encountered yesterday triggered something in me, and I think it's worth noting. Of course, I noted it on our private blog, but I am going to share it here, as well, because if you are grieving, you might find yourself falling down a "rabbit hole" like this one some day, (or, as my friend Karen J. called it, a "dark alley"), and I want you to know that you are not alone. These memories and triggers lurk everywhere in plain sight, and we have to learn to live with them. But sometimes, they knock me down, and that's what happened yesterday.

The reading was fine - it was lovely, in fact - about invisible guides/guardians on our journey. It was the guided meditation that got to me.

"Sit quietly with your attention focused on the in-and-out pattern of your breath. As you breathe in, whisper 'You are with me.' As you breathe out, whisper, 'I am with you.' When you are ready, visualize a sacred dwelling place with dim lighting. See yourself standing before the holy place. On either side of you is a guardian to guide and protect you." - p. 106, Joyce Rupp, Open the Door

This is where the meditation broke down for me yesterday. I wrote,

"Something inside of me screamed, 'NO! Why should I have this protection, when Katie did not?' Irrational? Perhaps. But I can't get rid of the memory - one of the worst of my entire life - of Katie, screaming in pain one evening, 'I want to die, NOW!' My precious, beloved 12-year old girl. Where were her guardian angels, then? I am shaking as I type this. Trauma memory.

'We learned to anticipate her pain episodes after that, and we had them under control, but there were two that got ahead of us in the early days of hospice, and I will take those memories with me...of failure to protect her, of her suffering, of our agony of helplessness, waiting until the drugs kicked in, of the fear of more horrors to come, of compassion for her, and the angry certainty that NO ONE SHOULD HAVE TO SUFFER LIKE THIS! I hate cancer.

"So I am throwing in the towel on this meditation for now. Maybe I'll come back to it later."

Later on, after putting the book down,  I took a walk, and it occurred to me that perhaps I was a guardian/guide for Katie during her illness. Not that I was able to prevent her suffering, but I was with her,  giving her love and care the entire time - and when I was out, Gregg was there. David was a companion for her, as were countless nurses and technicians and doctors. We had many helpers in our community, as well.

If I think of guidance and protection as "saving from harm," then no way does it work. But if I think of guidance and protection as loving presence, maybe it does. Perhaps our companions or guardians were not so much invisible, as visible. Perhaps they were not there to "protect" Katie and us, in the sense of preventing what was to come, but in the sense of loving assistance and presence.

I went to see my spiritual director yesterday afternoon, and we discussed this further. I was overwhelmed with a variety of concerns and emotions. I cried and cried until I was exhausted. Then I went home and served dinner to my husband and his parents. I went to bed tense and weeping inwardly, missing Katie, and longing for the feeling of her cheek against mine.

This morning when I arose, I was still exhausted, sad and subdued, but I had a bit more hope than I did yesterday. I decided to try and finish the meditation that I had thrown aside:

"Enter the sacred dwelling place and find an enriching sense of peace. Stay there for as long as you wish. When you leave the sacred dwelling place, renew your desire to give your entire self to the Holy One and to the journey of your growth." p. 106, Joyce Rupp, Open the Door

While I couldn't do this on my own in meditation yesterday, it did happen in my spiritual director's office. Sometimes we need the help of another, and I am thankful to have that in my spiritual director, in friends and family. Just as in the reading, the guides ARE with us. Perhaps I am more in tune with the visible guides than the invisible ones, right now.

After finishing the reading and meditation, one of the saving graces of my life appeared: a massage therapy appointment. I cannot overstate the importance of massage therapy in my grief work. Most of the time, I am not verbal about my grief; I write it, or I keep it inside, but it is there, the longing for Katie. If I don't let it out, I feel as if it calcifies in various places in my body, particularly my neck, shoulders and lower back. Massage therapy releases that brittleness, and allows me to move freely again. I used to think of it as a luxury, but it is truly an essential part of my grief therapy, a release and relief. I have the best massage therapist possible, and she lives right in our neighborhood. That is a gift from God, for sure.

So if you find yourself at the bottom of a rabbit hole, you are not alone. Perhaps a prayer, a friend, a spiritual mentor or a massage therapist can help you.