I used to be so angry at you.
I used to want to fight you.
I hated you.
The pain and suffering I felt when I felt you was suffocating.
I thought it was you that had taken those I love.
I thought it was you that had brought the pain and suffering.
But I realise now that I was wrong.
Please forgive me.
I know now that you didn’t take them. You are them. You are the love I feel for them now they’ve gone transformed into another form, another name.
You are what my love for them became.
As my love transformed into grief it was that space in between that caused the pain and suffering.
It wasn’t you.
It was your shadow.
You are still, of course, often harder to carry than the love I used to know and feel for them.
That felt warm and soft and comforting.
You can feel cold and lonely.
But you are a reminder of how much love I felt for them.
I’ve found that carrying you gets easier with time. The weight of you doesn’t get less but perhaps I grow stronger. Perhaps I am able to carry you with greater ease as more time passes. Perhaps my muscles grow stronger.
Or perhaps you have become a part of me, a crack in my heart that shows I’ve felt love transform into grief, that I’ve loved someone through to the other side of my own pain and suffering.
I’m still figuring you out but I don’t hate you anymore. Instead, when I feel your presence I try to transform you back to love. I remove the pain and suffering and focus on the feeling of love. I focus on my heart.
I remember the love.
Perhaps this is what makes me able to carry you with greater ease over time; not the growing of muscles but instead the lightness that comes as you transform back to love.
Yes, I’m still figuring you out but I’m happy to sit with you now, as friends, not enemies as we figure it out together.
Love, Fi xxx
Read more in my books
Listen to my groundbreaking podcast on all podcast apps – search for ‘Live Like You Are Dying’
Book a place at one of my retreats.
Fi is Currently:
Writing extracts for my ‘random act of kindness’ book.
Appreciating the imminent arrival of autumn.
Sitting in my summer house – my perfect writing sanctuary.
Listening to ‘The Highwomen’.