I did NOT want to write this post, this year.
I am floored by the amount of grief I feel. I don't understand why it gets bigger every year. I don't understand why I've struggled more this year than any other. I've lost more people in the other years, and mourned others' pain IN the other years, but this year I feel flattened. Bruised. Trampled. Frozen. Scared to move.
I guess I'm grieving bigger things.
I know without a doubt I'm grieving for my country. I'm proud to be American, but the grand lady had been beaten down this year. I feel the grief of her people, as well as all the other parts of the process; denial, anger, bargaining, depression. I don't see acceptance anywhere; I see rage and tears on mostly every side.
I am grieving for my friends. Some have lost family this year, and because their grieving is their own, I can only stand silently and watch, knowing that of any one if them turns my way, my arms will open, I will receive them, and the weeping will be long.
Stephen King wrote a line in "Firestarter" that has stayed with me: "And so, perhaps most of all, she mourned herself." It comes at the end of Charlie's conflagration, and comes in spite of her righteous anger and pain.
Here I am, mourning again. I write this entry for all the sad, but sometimes I think my words are only whispers that cannot be heard above the wails.
YET, here I am. Slowly approaching the candle shrines, the crosses in the road, the ruined cities, the capering rejoicing of the cavemen, with my small offerings. Bending down to place my candle, my one blossom, my wreath at the gravestone, the silent cup of coffee handed to the mourners in the snow. There is so much, so much to mourn.
I mourn that I can't fix it. I can't make it go away. I might not even make anyone feel better for even one second. I grieve that, but must accept it in the end.
Listen to my mourning song. See if it resonates. I can only hope it helps.