We heal together
I was so touched by all your kind and supportive comments yesterday on the first anniversary of my mother’s death. It made me think of something I read this week by Caroline Myss.
I believe that in some way we breathe together, that is, that at any given moment, the people we are surrounded by are all sharing some mutual experience in some way.
Caroline writes about a recent encounter she had with a homeless man and how it led her to observe how next year their situations could be reversed.
This man thought his home was secure. I believe that to be true about my home right now. He is now losing his home. I am sure that he at one point believed that such a thing could never happen to him. Our lives change in the blink of an eye.
I remember my mother’s distress two years ago as her best friend was diagnosed with cancer. My Mum thought that was the end for her friend. Yet one year later, that same friend stood beside me at my mother’s graveside after my Mum died from an inoperable brain tumor.
Our lives can change in the blink of an eye.
The friend we grieve for because she has lost a loved one, or has been diagnosed with an illness, grieves for us in the same situation down the line. We are all connected by what Caroline Myss refers to as “psychic bonds that pulsate through the dark matter world”.
All life breathes, moves, heals, and suffers together. This is one of the lessons I have learned in the past year, and one of the things that helps me through the pain.
We breathe together. We live together. We heal together. We thrive together. And in this way, we survive together.
So poignant and so beautiful. Thinking of you and your Mother. We breathe together. Perfect words to read on a sleepless night in Vancouver. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. Thank God for the friends we meet who walk with us. Sending you much love. T xo
I am coming to believe the truth of these words more and more Terri xxx
You have so touched my heart with your loving words about your precious mother. I have missed my own mother every single day since August, 1965 when breast cancer took her from her family. I am walking this breast cancer journey with you since being diagnosed in November, 2011. I have faithfully read your words and have been raised to an enlightened awareness of what you…me…others are experiencing. Thank you Marie. God bless you.
Laurie, your kind words mean a great deal to me. Thank you so much xxx
I love this post so much! I wasn’t familiar with Carolyn’s work before now; I’m so glad you’ve shared her wise words. The last line is especially poignant, and reminds me that our connection to each other is precious. The online community of love and support that I was first exposed to through your blog, Marie, helped me so much when I was first diagnosed, and it gives me great joy to see you wrapped in that same love and support. It’s proof that what we give comes back to us in untold ways. Big hugs to you. xo
I know, all to well, how our lives can change, literally, in a blink. Like you, Marie, I am also struck by how incredulous it is that our lives are intertwined in life and in grief. That which we expect doesn’t always come to fruition, and that which we never dreamed becomes our new normal, and in some cases, our nightmare.
My love to you as you soldier on past this sad anniversary. I’m already steeling myself for the second anniversary of James’s death the day after Christmas.
There is something so beautiful that is hard to describe as I look at the picture and ponder the words of how we are all just walking each other home. I am getting close to the first anniversary of my best friend’s death who died of MBC and I have been thinking about her a lot. It’s so hard to explain when someone you really cared about so much has died and you just keep wondering where they are even though you know they have left the “living” world. At the same time so many memories keep flooding my mind about her-her life and death really forged my path for advocacy with breast cancer. When I have the time I need to blog about this feeling. As usual great post!
Marie, I am just now catching up and saw this. I can’t believe it has been a year since your mother passed. A week from tomorrow will be 5 years since my father passed. I understand.
Time flies as we walk each other home. Thank you for being on the road with me.
Renn, Susan, Brenda and Nancy your comments are so beautifully expressed and it lifts my heart to see how much you all understand how I feel about our global connection – the love, kindness, compassion and support I have found in this community has pulled me gently through many a dark night.. Brenda, Renn and Susan.. thinking of you both in a special way at your own time of anniveraries xxx
Oh Marie, I’ve been thinking about you. The loss of your dear mum was such an incredible blow for you. I’m so sorry for your suffering. Hopefully the razor-sharpness of your pain has lessened just a bit, though the impact of this loss is forever. But I don’t need to tell you that do I? Big hugs to you, my friend.
Such beautiful and bittersweet thoughts. I’ve always thought there was so much raw beauty in sadness. My best wishes to you on the anniversary of your mother’s death.
Such beautiful and bittersweet thoughts. I’ve always thought sadness brought out raw beauty. My best wishes to you, especially at the anniversary of your mother’s death.