Heaviness transformed to become LIGHT!

Yesterday I was surprised by relief.

‘Relief’ because something heavy was transformed into something light.

‘Surprised’ because I haven’t felt relief such as yesterday’s for a long time. At present my journey is, and for some years it has been, through hard, HARD territory. Private things; but it’s been extremely tough. It’s been bloody.

I was ‘surprised by relief’ because I had not known what I might feel. I had not actually looked ahead to feelings. I don’t think I had dared. I was in a sea of fear. I had, consequently, thought only about Doings, and I’d left out the feelings. But yesterday I had wanted to DO something to help the grief (or some of it) over  … (and I am about to write of something that’s always been totally private and unspoken: it’s odd to write about it now. But I’ll take a deep breath and say) … out of the sea of grief. The little corner that I thought I could maybe (maybe) DO something is over a pregnancy that I had lost, many, many years ago. It has always been so private, this pregnancy, and so has the loss. In fact it was more than private: it was secret, which is different from private. Secrecy had caused me to lock it away, and it’s taken a lot of hard work for me even to realise that there WAS a key to the lock, and even more hard work to discover that the key was in my possession.

And so I took this key that suggested that maybe I could DO something. But the Something I had concocted sounded a bit odd, and I was a bit bewildered. I wasn’t sure what would happen. Yesterday had therefore loomed as a day containing a large measure of fear. Yet somewhere in my mind there must have been a quiet hope for relief. My problem was that that somewhere hadn’t reached my consciousness.

Earlier this year I had come across a little box; a rather beautiful one whose purple velvet lid was the colour of mourning, which was very apt. I knew immediately that I could use it to represent a box to hold my memory of what I had lost; what I might have liked to have laid in a velvety place; a place that I could consider precious. That was nicer than what had happened, which was a rushed hiding away of a bloody mess; a mass of blood: a disposal full of fear and loneliness and utter dismay. By contrast, for yesterday I planned a very simple little ceremony when two friends came and we put this box on the BBQ and, after burning it, we gathered the ashes. This was Step One. Very simple. Step Two will be to scatter the ashes in a place that is special, and tranquil, and nice. For me, that could only be on the west coast of northern Scotland, which – for me – offers a sense of ‘home’. There, my soul can be at peace. I would like these ashes to be at peace, representing what I would have wanted for what I lost many decades ago. Rather wonderfully, I am being taken to the Highlands tomorrow. Hopefully, I might get to the north-west coast and these ashes could come with me and not return with me but stay in their own tranquil place.

I must finish describing yesterday before I rush ahead to next week.

Yesterday had loomed as so dauntingly difficult, even though I was convinced that doing Something would be good. In fact, the day was beautifully simple and simply beautiful. And the very important message that has stayed with me is that the box (which had been fairly heavy) was transformed. It was changed to ash (which is light).

Something heavy became something light… so light that with only a puff of wind, it began to be blown away.

That fact is a metaphor that I find very helpful.

PS. During the burning, a white feather came and landed on the grate above the fire. Someone once told me that white feathers suggested that angels are present and, although I don’t know what I think of angels, d’you know I found myself thinking, Gosh, this feather is SO tiny… it seemed to represent a very tiny angel.

Tears are very cleansing…