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Monthly Archives: January 2010

Zev shared so much with me, and for that I am deeply grateful.

On a daily basis she would report her adventures at school, tell me about the multitude of wonderous worlds she discovered in books. I was the one in whom she would confide secrets about the boys she thought were cute and sweet. She blessed me with her opinions on music; expressed her feelings about pain, separation, love, marriage, god, reincarnation.

We would talk of the power of nature, the joys of friendship, the passion in singing… so many conversations and memories swirl around inside my head.

It is as though bits of her soul continue to reside in my heart…

What treasures I carry within me…

She lives on.


What is it about music that stirs the soul?

For me, there is magic in music.

Music can summon the deepest of emotions. It holds the power to instantly bring tears to my eyes, to enrage my inner demons, to bring joy to my whole being…

When I am existing inside of my grief, standing still within the pain, allowing the waves to wash over me, music is cathartic. It pulls out all that I attempt to hide away, helping me to release, even if only momentarily.

As a reminder to anyone reading Songs & Sorrow regularly, and to those who have yet to discover it — I write these posts for two main reasons:

1. To share my heart openly, allowing my grief to be seen and heard by those who choose to listen, in the hopes that I will help someone else who is hurting.

2. To change the views and opinions on grief that western society has formulated, in a way that will transform our perceptions and connections, bringing stronger community togetherness.

A few of my recent experiences have fueled this entry.

1. I finished reading ‘Secrets of the Talking Jaguar’ by Martin Prechtel.

2. I watched the movie ‘Avatar’.

3. I began reading ‘Swallowed by a Snake’ written by Thomas Golden.

For such an advanced modern society, we are severely lacking. We distance ourselves from death and grief so much so that when we do inevitably encounter it, we have no framework by which to process, and no skills to cope, let alone attempt to support others who are grieving.

We laugh and we celebrate with our friends and neighbors, yet we do not cry together. We shun and avoid those who openly show their pain and suffering. I long for a day when we can come together in pain, as well as joy.

From my new vantage point as a bereaved parent, from within the belly of the beast [grief], I view the world so differently than I once did. I was one of those people who, like most of you, thought ‘that will not ever happen to me’ — until it did… And, whether we want to consciously admit it or not, death touches us all, eventually.

Life and death are equally full of mystery. Life is sacred, and death is part of what helps us to appreciate each moment we are blessed to live.

I do not have the answers; I am simply along for the ride. And so, I leave you with these wise words to ponder:

‘Once a culture is deprived of its death, it loses its health.’ (Ivan Illich)

Zev, you are my light that shines in darkness… my gentle loving soul.

Loving you is all I want to do!

Since I can no longer experience the physical dimension of our relationsip, I turn to nature…

When the wind blows, I feel your soft-skinned touch.

With the sounds of nature, I am reminded of your sweet voice.

The warmth of the sun on my face is like an embrace.

A forest of memories surrounds and holds me tight.

You remain my pride and joy, oh, sweet sweet child.

Zev personified pure joy! For one so small, who lived too few years in this world, she was the happiest being I have ever known. What a blessing to have the honor of being Zev’s Mom.

The gift of Zev’s love filled me to overflowing. I learned what true love is. There is nothing else on this earth that I have experienced more pure, wonderful, and true than the love between Mother and child.

To be loved in all one’s folly, eccentricities, and flaws is a gift indeed. Magic exists in love that strong. Thank you my dear sweet girl; thank you for the best years of my life.

I continue to breathe, to put one foot in front of the other, and live life moment to moment… all the while, in my heart is the hope that the years of my life spent physically separated from you will seem but a mere second once I am free of this body that holds me. How I long to soar with you in spirit.

Since time is not linear, as we perceive it to be, perhaps my hope is not so far-fetched… Maybe at this very moment in some parallel universe, I am holding you in my arms, where you are safe and warm. I relish the thought.

The fire of my love for you will forever burn bright, my Princess.