When Finnian was about a year old he had a terrible fever and was quite ill over the course of a weekend. Joe's dad was in town from England and the second night Finn was ill he held the baby on the couch and placed his hands on Finn's head and became very serious in his attention.
Dad was healing him. He was trying to heal him with his magic.
Magic is the best way I can describe it.
Dad was a spiritualist and his views on life rooted from that place.
My grandfather is a Baptist minister and his views root from there.
My grandfather would lay his hands on me too if I asked him to.
He would pray hard for me.
It is all magic. It is all magical thinking. It is all reasoning.
Magical thinking is all around me right now. I place my hands on books and telephones and wood and tables and press harder than I should to try and make things feel real.
But they don't.
I try and chant inside of my head letters strung together that form words and then sentences that beg the people that I love to find peace. I say these little words over and over in my mind and even as I am saying them I wonder if it will ever work.
Because grief is not a simple action.
It begins and assaults at random and does it ever have an end?
Or does it just hide away?
It is like a heavy velvet curtain at a theatre.
It just falls at random from the sky and blankets you.
It makes it difficult to move and the fabric traps yr feet.
It pools in piles at yr feet and you cannot move until it lets you.
I find myself trying very hard to think things fine. I reason with myself that in some arbitrary number of days that everyone will feel better and life will resume again in formation.
I make little deals with the universe that I will be a better wife, mother, sister, daughter, friend if everyone can just find that peace.
But it's only magical thinking. I pray in the quiet to a God who I am told by my grandfather knows the number of hairs on my head.
I say tiny words to God, but I am lost out there in the dark.
I am not sure I am heard.
I am not sure I am worthy or my magical thinking matters.
But the day after dad placed his hands on Finnian
the morning after he was so loving and focused and true
the very next day
my small boy uncurled in the bed
and stretched and smiled
and cooed
and snuggled to my chest and his forehead
was as cool
as a early morning breeze
and I can't help but irrationally wish for dad to be here now
to place his hands on his children's heads
to take away the sadness
the way they all feel
dealing with the subtraction of him from their lives
And nothing makes sense but I say the small words over and over again
inside of my magical mind
17 comments:
hearing you loud and clear Amy, here's to the days ahead when that heavy velvet curtain stays lifted a little more! Emma x
am a longtime anonymous reader.
i needed this today, as my grief is pooled up at my feet, keeping me still. i needed to be reminded to use my magical words. i forgot that i have that, i forgot that at least i can whisper.
Wow. I hear you. More peace will come.
Peace is elusive - fleeting. So you can only really grab snatches of it when it materializes. You have to drink it like a really expensive bottle of wine. Just drink the whole thing in one sitting since it won't keep for long. But really enjoy it without distraction.
I think this is why many people (very often myself included) have a hard time finding peace. They don't realize that it's not something that can be forced. It has to find them. And it will - but only in time. You have to be ready for it and not waste time looking with your eyes. Because you can only see it with your heart.
Much love to all of you. Greif sucks.
You are heard by your friends and by people who see that magic in you.
So much of grief is addition and subtraction, and how oddly threadbare is the space in between.
OH. Oh, honey, this is so beautiful.
this was amazingly beautiful.
Oh yes... and he is holding your head right now, and your heart... you can bet that. Later... in time... you'll see that too. Grief finally morphs into something more livable... but there are many tears... Instead of specific amount of days... it's probably a specific amount of tears. Dear one. Let's meet and you can cry on my shoulder.
And, sitting with your grief does make you the best mommy and wife and friend.
I have been thinking about your words in this, like non-stop, since it popped up in my reader.
I'm feeling like I've got very important words for you, but I can't find them yet, for some reason.
Let not your heart be troubled though.. there is enlightenment in the searching. I know that for sure.
I love you!
You are a magical, beautiful being! May all of yor days be filled with pockets full of peacefulness!
Beautiful and universal, thank you for sharing.
I have no response-I just let your words sit as they are-and let them heal you and me and eveyone who is in something like this or knows someone who is.
Someone sent me a post today about a girl who lost her grandma three years ago, saying it reminded her of me. And I read it and I sat there and cried, really cried in my office from a place of missing my own so much I could barely stand it. She died in January. She was my best friend. She was old and I'm therefore supposed to be over it faster (or so it's insinuated) but I'm not. She was with me so long, I don't really know how to deal. And since I'm not thinking about it consciously all the time it's been hitting when I least expect it. The other night I was with my dad and my uncles and the rest of my family and she was mentioned. It was good. We need to keep sharing her for now, I'm sure forever.
I say all this to say the only things I believe about this grief and loss that frame segments of our lives: it has its own pace and path. All we can do is move through it.
Here for real, for you.
Magic is any stride toward perfection. You and the peace you bring are your father's magic.
Thank you for your words.
I'm so very sorry for your loss. This is the first time I have read your blog, but there's something so real about it that I had to write. The lump in my throat and the tears in my eyes are real, too. The words did it to me. Knowing that we'll all go through this at some point is hard but knowing that you've got others out there sending you warm, wonderful, beautiful vibes to help you get through the day is just amazing. Wishing you peace. Wishing you energy to get through another day.
Oh, sweetie. Hugs.
I love this Amy. I'm sending magical thoughts your way right now.
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