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Monthly Archives: February 2010

Is it possible for someone to be truly overflowing with love and pain simultaneously?

My love for Zev is deep. And my compassion for the suffering of others is huge. The love I feel and show to those close to me seems different than it did a year ago. My tears are a reflection of the great love and the great sorrow I feel, no longer having my little girl in my arms. The despair and the constant ache within is excruciatingly sharp, and at times it is but a dull hum.

I’ve shared before of how love and grief are connected. How closely linked are joy and sorrow. They are inextricably tied together. Therefore, I suppose it is not a stretch for me to feel so full of pain and so full of love at once. Yet, it is foreign to me… it feels like swimming in mud.


Shifting one’s consciousness is certainly easier said than done. But I will persist.

It is becoming increasingly clearer to me that a large part of my journey consists of surrendering to my new reality. This may in fact be the key to finding what I need to reinvest in living and experiencing joy again.

This past year I have spent so much energy focusing on saddness and anger, wishing with all my might for things to be as they were before, fighting against the truth, attempting to bargain with the universe… and yet nothing has changed.

Therefore, in the coming moments, hours, days, weeks, I will endeavor to shift my persepctive and focus on this one powerful truth: Zev exists within me, all around me, in those that I love, and in the memories I cherish.

When I miss her, all I need do is blow a kiss on the wind, write to her, sit in her room, open my consciousness to her spirit. Listening to her song of love and seeing in my mind’s eye her playful joy abound works magic in my soul.

It is clear to me that the only meaningful, lasting peices of life are the relationships and love which we cultivate.

I have been blessed with so many wonderful relationships in my lifetime — friends, sisters, mothers, fathers, brothers, children, and my wonderful husband. Much like blooms in springtime, I have found that the more I water and give to the people around me, the more love and joy I receive.

Recently, I had the fortunate brush with an acquaintance who showed me a great deal of love and compassion. Let me tell you — in the span of mere seconds, the simple yet genuine gesture of a tearful hug still resonates deep within; that small kindness has carried me a long way.

To all of you who have poured so much energy and love on this family these past eleven months — if you ever feel helpless and wonder whether you have made a difference, I tell you now, you have! Do not doubt or question. Kindness and solace are treasured gifts. We are truly blessed and long to express the deep gratitude and love we feel for so many of our loved ones, friends, and neighbors.

Zev’s death has opened my heart and soul in a way that I would not have previously thought possible. I will carry within me her shining vitality and compassionate love – always. And, in honor and remembrance, I will do my best to spread her joyful spirit to as many people as I can find.


What does it mean?

Why do I fight against it?

It is strange to feel aware of the reality of something, but not fully accept it on all levels – logical, emotional, and spiritual. It feels as though deep within my core something it amiss… perhaps it is that I over-think things analytically until the illusion persists so much so that it becomes my perception of reality. Wow, that is deep and tangled, isn’t it?!

The big question is this: what am I giving up and where will I be if I surrender to the reality that I can no longer have a physical relationship with Zev, no matter how much bargaining I attempt inside myself? In essence, I am holding on to something that no longer exists… I resist this new reality and yet I know I cannot change it. It doesn’t make sense, but there it is.

How do I shift my way of thinking? What will it take to focus on strengthening my spiritual connection? Surrendering to the reality that all is not as it was before and never will be again. The problem is that I am not ready to let that go. So for now, I will allow myself to feel the sadness and the anger, hold onto my longing for the physical, continue to fight off and keep at bay the truth that is all around me… until I know I am ready for the tide to engulf me. And surrender.

My heart aches, my arms long to hold you, my spirit dreams of soaring freely…

One question is everpresent: How to deal with this? I do not know what to do with myself. I stifle screams of anger and agony with tears, and I hold back tears while I run, physically exerting energy … it doesn’t get better, there is no relief. Surrounding myself in happy memories soothes me for a short while, and remaining grateful for what I have gives me a foundation upon which to step from one day to the next, yet, still in all, at the end of each passing moment, my love for you and the pain of this separation is all that remains.

I feel as though I am but a lost, lonely, helpless, broken soul destined to wander aimlessly through time and space, searching, desperately for you.

I continue to grasp and attempt to hold onto the thought that you may still be able to feel my love…

These things I know — I will never cease to be your mother, and I will always express my love for you, until the day comes for me to be with you again, to be free of this body that holds me.