Anticipatory grief enters at diagnosis.

It is amazing how life can change on a dime. Every part of our life can change and yet we can feel static. Because if we move, we must at some level of our existence accept this unwanted change.

Need to talk?

And so, we may feel at times like life is moving around us, like a raging river moves around a large rock. This is grief

Other times we may feel out of control, tumbling like the rocks washed down the river in a flood. This is grief

There are still other times, we may want to escape. But where can we run that life would not catch us? This is grief

And another day simply arises out of the darkness ahead of us, and we can no longer pretend to escape or ignore our life or the passage of time.

Anticipatory grief chisels itself into our face, casting a shadow on the future, and numbing our mind for a period of time.

And time continues to pull us towards our unknown future.

But there are things we do know about time and Einstein told us long ago... that time was a manmade illusion. But possibly we forget, like so many things, wisdom sometimes gets lost, "in time".

Sages, guru’s, and great teachers over time have repeated the same message. And if we believe, truly believe we are infinite beings of light and energy, then why should this moment, “in time” be such a great barrier between life and death, rather a continuum like the winding river that separates and then rejoins itself once again.

Because if time is an illusion then the separation by space and time may be an illusion that we have somehow accepted..

I once experienced timelessness when I was drowning in a capsized plane. Time ceased to exist. It made no difference to me then. As my consciousness separated from my physical body, I found my perspective shift. I felt no urgency of time. “I” was fine alive and well. And that knowledge in that experience, made everything at that moment, perfectly ok. I had no concern with my dying body.

And yet I found myself highly challenged in my grief.

I noticed that grief may be one of those emotions that blind us to our inner knowing of our infinite nature, slightless to glimpse ahead, nailing our mind to this moment in time, hindering our ability or desire to begin anew.

And I think that is the saddest thing of all as we all move towards an inevitable new beginning.

Possibly we just need to pause, stop to breath, but getting stuck is another compounding challenge all together.

At this, you may think it sounds harsh. But, I believe it becomes a choice. Because the painful nature of grief screams for us to remove our hand from the fire. To come alive again, for our own survival.

Through my grief journey, I have struggled more than any other time in my life, but now I feel stronger.

I know that I have grown stronger because of my grief. Gentler because of my grief. Wiser and more compassionate because of my experience.

Because, when the person we love the most dies, it is unfathomable, it breaks you open more than I could possibly explain. And for those who have travelled this journey, you know what I mean

Recently, I was asked about my journey, and I found it hard to put into words.

So, as I often do, when I need to reflect, I immerce myself in loving nature, and into the thoughts deeply woven through my not so distant memories.

I recalled the early days of diagnosis, and that deep realization that things had changed.

It could not be undone. The knowing that there was no going back, only onward into something unknown. A primal fear awakened that I hadn’t known before.

And as the vision unfolded I came to this, receiving a life-threatening diagnosis can be the biggest challenge we may faced so far in life, and we may not feel prepared.

And it may also be a buffer or a stepping-stone to prepare us for death itself.

In this vision, we were at the base camp of Mount Everest.

There were others there, but Willis and I stood alone.

We were about to set out on a journey we never asked for.

That we never desired.

It is at this point we begin the trek, because it is the only option available.

If he is to survive we must reach the peak, go over the top. Hand in hand, we look up and then our eyes meet. That deep knowing passed between our souls. It seems insurmountable, wind, snow, treacherous, overwhelming and yet we are determined.

And then we look down, each step must be perfectly placed, careful not to fall, and we realize we are in bare feet.

The journey was painful, ravenging his body until he could not go on. Willis never reached the peak with his physical body, he transitioned to his light body, on June 5, 2021. And I truly and deeply know that his journey continues to explore new heights of being.

But at that point, I was clinging to the mountain engulfed in a blizzard. The pass obscured and slippery, ice shattered around me, an avalanche of emotion knocked me off my feet, burying me under its weight, chilling me to the bone, biting into my already raw self.

At this point I felt desperate. There was a stark moment in time when I became aware that my part of this journey did not simply dissolve here. I could not simply turn around, pack up and say I don’t want to play this game anymore. My very survival depending on my ability to reach the peak too.

I needed to gather the last of my strength and keep moving upward. And I knew I needed help.

For everyone that threw me a lifeline, I thank you.

And now I am ready to throw a life line to the ones that are still climbing. So, this is me today, it’s time for me to pay it forward. From the top of the mountain, a little weary but strong, resilient, and enjoying the view.

I am lowering a strong and safe rope for you or someone you know who is grieving. Connect here

Books I loved

Signs by Laura Lynn Jackson

Journey of Souls, Michael Newton PHD

or [email protected]