My grieving has moved me into deeper, much deeper connections with people that until now, I have had more superficial relationships with – local people, neighbours, friends, even family. They have been witness to my soul, my authenticity in a way that is not about the spiritual language of authenticity, more of the sacred, holiness of my soul that has no language for what it is, no framework – it is simply and beautifully my soul – a space, an energy, a feeling.
And they have seen it, felt it, and perhaps not even been able to describe or put it into any context other than what we as a culture, as a community, as people in the throws of ordinary lives, suddenly and almost violently thrust into communications with my despair can grasp. They could not look away in the moment anymore than I could, and most of them didn’t. They stood still, wept, held their breath, hugged, spoke, remained silent, tried to find an opening to understand, to be of help, to do something, anything.
Sometimes though – not at first – sometimes my grief drew them into that soul space within themselves where we knew each other, where we were so fully connected. And my grieving – openly, honestly, vulnerably – gave us the chance to face that moment together and maybe, maybe unite, to be one with each other, to be holy together.
And what else besides grief, besides raw suffering in grief can take us there, at such a depth. Maybe love. Maybe. But with so many of us, how hard is it to love the full way that my grief has brought us together.
Daryl Wood's Blog 