secrets and goodbyes
Tonight I called into my women's circle call, first time in a few weeks from the disruption and the holidays. I had been wondering if there was still space for me there, I was missing the support and snuggling from earlier circles. It felt empty.
And tonight the call was a New Years Party. And as the sisters talked about their gowns and the other attendees and naming their wishes for the new year, I fell into an abyss. In my simple black gown, I walked down the hall to the library and there waiting for me was my dad.
The energy was intense, from long ago, like "The Good Shepherd" meets "Joe Black."
Cue the meltdown. Dad, how did you do it? All those years, when everybody looked to you to have the answers? Who held space for you? Where did you find your refuge? Where did you replenish? How did you recharge? Who held you?
Who holds me? How can I bear the weight of this? How can I hold this steady midline place, guiding others to find their answers?
What would you tell me, Dad? What do I need to know, or remember? If I let myself rest, will it be done?
At the very end of the call, I could barely compose myself enough to tell this story. And feel the support of circle sisters gathering around me, with profound and important things to say. With sincere space they held for me. So there is room for me, even in the raw depth of this resurgence of grief.
And now I know. Behind the scenes, in the quiet rooms behind the party, in my most tired moments, help and support is waiting for me. Underneath all the noise I am not alone.
posted by Cathy @ 11:27 PM
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