Sitting with My Sadness

 

Today, it is time to post another blog, ready or not.  It should be inspiring, worthy, and valuable.

Or not.

The truth is that these days I am mostly just sitting with my sadness.

I am sad about my Mom. I am sad that she is dying. I am sad about the conversations we never had. I am sad that time with her means time away from my family. I am sad about Trump and Kim Jong Un and the hurricanes. I am especially sad about Puerto Rico.  It has been a rough few weeks.

It would be nice to make a list I could share of “Ten things to do when you are sad that your mother is dying and hurricanes have wreaked havoc on thousands of innocent people plus you are afraid that two mad men might start a world war.” A list might make me feel better.

My list could include things like:

1. Plant flower seeds.
2. Plant bulbs for Spring.
3. Eat a salad.
4. Take a walk.
5. Pet a puppy.
6. Hold a baby.
7. Look at the stars.
8. Do 10 push ups.
9. Write a Poem.
10. Pull up some star thistle or breath of heaven trees, the kind that threaten to take over your yard when you are not paying attention.
11. Sit in silence.
12. Put down your phone.
13. Go outside.

This is actually not a bad list. I should do some of these things anyway.

The truth is, though, that I can’t do anything to outrun this sadness. Push ups, poems, and silence are life lines; they help me keep going. But they don’t take the sadness away.

All I can do is be with it. To breathe it in and out. Sometimes, I dive into it and put my arms around it.  I hold it. Then I come up for air, and go to the grocery store and do the laundry.

Out of the blue, I get a text from a friend

“Could I come and sit with you and your Mom the next time you are there with her?”

Yes, yes, yes. Come sit with us.  Be with us. It won’t make the sadness go away. But it makes the walk less lonely.