Chapter Seven: ACCEPTING REALITY

You've heard the expression "The spirit is willing but the body is weak". I'd like to say that was the case as I struggled to release myself from Depression's grip. But by then my body was almost as weak as my spirit. The first few days without any food or much movement at all had left me lightheaded and weak kneed whenever I'd stagger out of bed and shuffle off to the bathroom.

But as the fourth day of darkness approached, so, too, did a gradual sense of strengthening spirit. I finally no longer just wanted to get out of bed but did, and like Lazarus, I eventually rose from my self-made tomb.

I even managed a shower, shampoo and some fresh clothes. Fortified with some broth, I was able to once again navigate through light and movement. In other words: The World.

*The World*: A place where no one else on it could ever possibly feel your pain.

You see when you lose what amounts to a part of your soul, and eventually stumble from your dark sleep of grief and step out into the light of the world around you, you're outraged. "Don't they know the world has stopped? Why are people still walking around? Why am I seeing birds flying and cars whizzing by?". But it's not the world that mourns. It's not the world that's suffered your loss or feels your pain. It's your world. Your own, private, personal, in-your-heart world that's come to a screeching halt. It's the same reason I don't laugh at the same jokes anymore, or want to watch television or interact with anyone or involve myself in anything that takes more than a modicum of concentration because nothing else seems as important as not seeing my girl roll on her back in the sun or greet me at the foot of the bed each morning.

But The World also represents reality and reality can be ugly, beautiful, cruel, generous, sadistic, empathetic, indifferent and compassionate, logical and illogical. For me reality had only been a curse in the form of my baby girl buried in the backyard. Or when my husband recently found one of her nail casings and a stray whisker beneath a chair where she sat most every day during the last week she was with us and he brought them to me and I sobbed uncontrollably. Again, cruel reality.

Yet, within the past few days while still navigating the light of the indifferent world, I've felt a slight shift in my perception of reality.

I'll look look at her picture or fondle one of her toys and remember....remember the love and beauty she brought into our lives, and in between the tears and reoccurring darkness I'll ask myself if reality might also represent a blessing in the form of her life. Her existence in the first place and the blessing we all shared together with her.

Perhaps if I can hold onto that positive concept of reality, the sole reality that was Sandy's life, her lovableness, her gentleness, her love for us - maybe I can accept reality on those terms. Maybe. I'm still not sure. I'm still navigating the light.