ever read something that you’re struck by, like a bell that resonates throughout your thoughts, echoes through your days? i certainly hope so. it’s like hearing the words of someone you love, intruding into your thoughts, months after they’ve moved away, years after they’ve gone home.
today, i was on facebook, and saw a friend remembering her mother. a mother i remember in bits and pieces as well – the friend and i went to high school together, and her mom worked at our high school as well. her mom told my mom i was wearing my lip ring to class (DIY at home piercings were all the rage in the 90’s, okay?), and that was the beginning of my teenage rebellion/depression/searching for identity. but her mom was always so kind to me, whenever i would spend the night – she had the homiest kitchen, in this really cool cabin of a house in what was then rural area in our county. she also passed away a year ago, a year ago today.
i heard once, that people fear speaking in public more than they fear dying. i don’t mind speaking in public, but the thought of this short beautiful life ending before I am ready for it to, terrifies me. the presence of loss, the specter of death hovers over our every step, and yet all i do is pretend it away. pretend that i can send that email encouraging a friend on another day. pretend that my sharp words can be apologized for tomorrow. pretend there is another day, another time to walk in kindness. pretend that i can be distant in my fear, pull away because of potential pain, hide my heart away and keep to myself.
this isn’t easy to balance. on one hand, there is the guilt of all the things left undone, the words left unsaid as i try to forget that i might lose my mom, my sister, my daughter, my family, and everything, in just a moment. and yet, there are still bills to be paid, work to be done, lunches to be packed, dinners to be cooked, and i could slip so easily into despair if all i thought of was the unavoidable nature of loss. i’m going to, one day, lose everyone i love.
the quote that’s been ringing in my ears today is this one:
I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me.
it’s from frank herbert’s sci-fi classic dune, and while most of it is glorious escapist ridiculousness, there is something to be said for adopting this idea. to let what terrifies me be accepted as terrifying. it is scary, and overwhelming, and yet, and yet.
i am afraid of losing the people i love. i am afraid of my sister dying, even though i know it is only the end of her mortal body. i am afraid of losing my brother. i am afraid of losing my daughter, like one friend has already. i am afraid of losing my mother and my father, as another friend has. i am afraid of losing my husband to death like a friend of mine has. i am afraid.
c.s. lewis has written so many, many words that bring light to my heart, and today is no exception. i find myself longing to read the great divorce again, to remember that every fear, every hope that i lay down will one day rise again, made truer, made right. lewis writes in various places on these ideas:
Every natural love will rise again and live forever in this country: but none will rise again until it has been buried.
If we insist on keeping Hell (or even earth) we shall not see Heaven: if we accept Heaven we shall not be able to retain even the smallest and most intimate souvenirs of Hell.
I believe, to be sure, that any man who reaches Heaven will find that what he abandoned (even in plucking out his right eye) has not been lost: that the kernel of what he was really seeking even in his most depraved wishes will be there, beyond expectation, waiting for him in ‘the High Countries’.
so today, i am confronted with my fears. and in seeking to let them wash over me, acknowledge their presence without giving them power, and believe that one day, i will see my family in the high country. that the things i lay down, let go of will be abandoned for a greater hope. that this is not the end, and my heart does not need to die a thousand times a day before the ending comes. now to put these words into practice.