It has been a summer of loss for me. Loss of friends I love, loss of strength from an injured shoulder, loss of time at the lake and in my garden, and even perhaps the loss of our democracy. Losses are natural at this time in our lives (except for the democracy one), and we’re all trying to accept them with some grace. And as I write this, there is also loss of time outdoors doing summer things I love due to the fires and smoke. Yikes!
Ram Dass said loss and grief are part of elder wisdom. They humble and deepen our hearts, connect us to other grief in the world and open us to compassion. We may have to slowly work through them though. Staying present with grief, feeling its sorrow, and being tender and patient with ourselves is one way.
A good friend has died and I miss her terribly. There is a hole in my life. Another good friend left town to go live in the Midwest near her family in a care facility. Another friend has had an extremely difficult time healing from a surgery at her old age and has lost all her energy and desire to do anything, and another I’ve lost to Alzheimer’s. My shoulder injury has delayed my swimming and made it impossible to do the gardening work I so love this summer. Things are better now, but there are just chunks of time missing, spirits missing and the usual way I spend my summers forever changed.
My dear Aunt, who died at 100, always said it wasn’t fair that all her friends died and left her.
Things do change, of course. Everything is always in flux and realizing that helps. Instead of loss, perhaps we should think of these situations as transitions instead. In periods of stability, we are putting together structures in our lives – making key choices, pursing certain goals. In periods of transition, we are challenging the premises of those structures – raising questions, exploring possibilities. Each termination of a previous life structure is an ending process of separation or loss. Much from the past must be given up, and there can be much that can be used as a basis for the future.
So many in the world are far worse off than us. However, it doesn’t reduce the actual pain we may feel during these times. Honoring our loss is important, as we can let it work through us and connect us into others who are going through the same things.
Remember the story of The Buddha telling Kisa Gotami, who had lost her son, that he can help her, but she must first bring him a mustard seed from a household that has not experienced death. Kisa Gotami searches for such a household but realizes that every family has faced death in some form.
There is loss not only with our surroundings and friends, but with our bodies. There are physical vulnerabilities which may bring us to our knees, physical impairments that can result in our dependence. Diseases of the brain, arthritis, eye problems, heart disease, cancer, stroke, and all the rest. The body has many ways of reminding us of our losses.
Through the course of our life, we learn to let go of much that we love. Losing is the price we must pay for living. It is also the source of much of our growth and gain. From leaving our family of origin to learning to stand alone, we become a morally responsible self, a loving and connected self, and we accept the sweet imperfections of our lives. We mourn, we adapt, until we draw our final breath. Many opportunities for creative transformations.
We cannot deeply love anything without becoming vulnerable to loss. We cannot become responsible people, connected people, reflective people without some losing and leaving and letting go.
“As she has grown, her smile has widened with a touch of fear and her glance has taken on depth. Now she is aware of some of the losses you incur by being here – the extraordinary rent you have to pay as long as you stay.”
– Annie Dillard
Martha McClellan has lived in Durango since 1993 and has been an educator, consultant and writer. Reach her at mmm@bresnan.net.
