Death: Letting Go vs. Loss

Freedom

I have been pondering the difference between letting go and loss, as a result of reorganizing my everything after the death of my beloved daughter, Jessica, at the tender age of 26, last year. 

Everyone speaks to us of loss when someone close to us dies. "I'm sorry for your loss," they say. And for a while, it seems valid and sensible and somewhat comforting to hear that. Not only do we seem to "lose" our loved one(s) to death, but we also may lose part or most of ourselves in the process, and have to work hard to redefine and pull ourselves back together, depending on how close they were and how much an active part of our daily lives, or depending on the complexity of the relationship.

Cycles are natural and good.

In my process of recovery, I've found there's something going on inside myself that KNOWS. When I cry my stomach and shoulders heave and tears pour out of my eyes and drench everything and I go through more tissues than all the previous years of my life added together, but the thought runs through my mind, and I hear myself saying out loud, "What are you crying for? It's okay, it's okay." 

And that something that runs underneath my ego KNOWS it's okay. That's why the crying eventually settles into little sniffs and I don't run into the street screaming and beating my chest and keening forever. I go clean something. I go pet the puppies. I go start a creative project. I go. Something inside of me, and I would guess, all of us, just KNOWS.

Resting in peace

Listening

That something, I define as the spiritual part of myself - half of the bonded body/soul, here in this physical world. All I have to do to connect with it is be still and listen.

This is the part that has inspired me to examine the meaning of letting go. To let go is "to allow someone or something to escape or go free"; "to relinquish one's grip on someone or something." Source - https://www.google.com/webhp?sourceid=chrome-instant&ion=1&espv=2&ie=UTF-8#q=let%20go%20definition

Each of us can pull up anchor and sail on.

And the spirit part of me also inspired me to examine the meaning of loss, or losing. To lose is "to be deprived of or cease to have or retain"; to become unable to find (something or someone). https://www.google.com/webhp?sourceid=chrome-instant&ion=1&espv=2&ie=UTF-8#q=lose+definition

Sometimes I need a little direction to find what I'm seeking.

I love the definition of letting go - and in the context of my daughter's passing, I envision it as her gaining her freedom without having to ask for the car keys. The spiritual part of me is thrilled that she's no longer "anchored" by sickness. The spiritual part of me knows she is not, and never will be "lost to me." Why she's right here in my heart, in my memories, in my DNA, in the very time and space that existed while she was here, and will always exist, and has always existed, when I think of my understanding of time and space, which are simultaneous except for here on our Earth plane of existence, and the love between us.  We were, we are, and we will always "be." 

Life in partnership

I like the idea that we lived the time we had together in partnership, and after she moved on, I honored our partnership by taking care of her things and keeping some of her things to hold close and celebrate her life and accomplishments and membership in our family. I feel that though she's changed form, and is now the combination of all of her lives on Earth and elsewhere, as well as closer to the central force of energy which I call our Creative Source, of which I believe we all are made, and with which we belong at all times whether we know it or not - I feel soothed in the knowledge that I too will undergo the very same process of changing form. How exciting, really, though I have much to do and other relationships here to honor before I get to do that.

Gigglepuss wears a woodland headband I decorated her with.

A life well-lived is worth much celebration. Much gratitude for our participation in it. A life well-lived, to me, is one in which we get to experience all kinds of things. And Jess did. And she shared so very well.

I am so very proud of her.

She followed her heart to experience life and love.

Happy travels!

And I think she is still following her heart, as we will all have the chance to do. 

And sometimes it leads her back to us, where she peeks in, and I look at the clock and it's 4:44, or 2:22, or 5:55, or 3:33, or 10:10. And I notice that the video she created to send for her brother's wedding is exactly 1:11 minutes/seconds long. So many little signs to let us know she loves us. So much love wafting up from us to her in her new worlds.

So these are the thoughts I have around letting go vs. loss. We have lost nothing, and I am so very wowed by what we have created between us. It's lovely. It's enduring. And I'm okay with letting go, since it's very freeing for Jess, and for us as well. 

We will meet on the same plane again, whether here or there, and until then, I listen and blow kisses when she sends her signs.

I should probably mention that it's still pretty good to hear "I'm sorry for your loss," since that's how we express ourselves when we perceive physical anguish around "the missing" feelings. 

It's okay, it's okay.

Namaste,
Jen