FLOODGATES OF MEMORY

Endings are powerful events. When relationships are ended, we are often faced with a flood of memories. When life as we have known it comes to an end, the space created seems to be invaded by thousands of memories. It is as all the pieces of our relationship to others were held behind a concrete dam. While we were still in relationship with the other, those memories were released a little at a time. But, when the relationship ended, the flood gates are opened and it is hard to control the flow.

One of the reasons this happens is that we may not want to let that relationship go.  Or at least there are parts of it that we cherish. But, our connections to important people and organizations are so important in our own self-understanding that it scares us to let it go. We may not know who we are if we are not in relationship to that person or institution. Our identity is up for grabs.

So, memories clamber over each other to get our attention. The members of our mental and emotional family were integrated as long as our relationship was a living one. But when there is a death of a relationship, the chaos scatters those stories and we don't know who we are.

So, we remember.  We are litterly trying to re-member what has been dismembered. We are trying to keep the relationship alive in our vision of ourselves. It is terribly disorienting to have important parts of our self taken away by an ending relationship. And because the relationship has been important to us, we have to put it together in a new way within our psyche/soul. Because the relationship is no longer a living presence, we need to construct a spiritual presence.

This is why it is so important for people who have had significant losses to keep telling their story--continually rehearsing what happened. They know that who they are is a collection of all the relationships they have had the the events that they have been part of. They need to integrate the experience of the ending of the relationship with their experience of the relationship. 

And that takes as long as it takes--generally longer than some around them would like. So, be a patient friend to those who need to talk. They are doing hard work of spiritual integration.

A RED CHECKERED BLANKET

It is a haunting image. The moment, captured by Kristina Guerra (Indianapolis Star, Monday, February 24, 2014) reveals a little 7 year old girl kneeling on the ground, wrapped in a red checkered blanket, being consoled by her mother.

The little girl's friend had died last night in a house fire that claimed all 6 members of her family. Surrounded by stuffed toys at the make-shift memorial, little Jade wept on the ground, embraced by a red checkered blanket and the loving arms of her Mommy.

When life seems to fall apart, when the people who seem to make your life normal are not there, it matters that you touch the ground. This image embodies some of those things that help ground us when we feel scattered and in chaos.

There is the winter ground--the base on which our life is built. We are sustained by the earth. Some people love to garden--to kneel down and get their hands in the dirt. Some like to hike--putting their boots on the hard soil of stability. Some like to lie back on the hillside and create characters out of the clouds in the sky. Some kneel on the ground in prayer. 

In the image there is a warm wool blanket secured by the warm arms of a mother's hug. When we hurt, we seek out someone who can simply hold us while we work through our pain. Companions on the journey of grief are vitally important. There are certainly times we need to be alone in the company of our own thoughts, but there are other times when the wrapping presence of strong friendships help hold us.

And the stuffed animals anchor the photo.  There on the ground, representing the comfort of the familiar are teddy bears and candles. When things seem to be coming apart, the presence of those things that comfort our soul are important. They may be symbols of love we have received from those who are no longer with us. They may be stories of life that has been lived. They may be symbols of a religious tradition that grounds our chaotic, wandering mind in a larger family of faith.

All these are captured in this powerful image--reminders that we are not alone.  While we may not have answers to why, we can have the presence of others with whom to wait till we have the strength to get up off the ground.  And when you think about it, that is quite a lot.

CHAOS

What a mess!!  I sit here in the middle of chaos.  We are having new carpet installed in our house. Every room is filled with the stuff of our life--all in the wrong place.  Professional carpet layers are crawling around on the floor making sure that all is done right. An industrial sized radio is blaring country music.  What happened to my home?

So much of our feeling of well-being is related to the space we inhabit. Most of us work to create space where we feel safe and comfortable.  The stuff we have is there to help us be what we want to be or remind us of what we have been.  We arrange it and organize it so we can move with some comfort and ease. We organize our stuff in our house so it feels like home.

When that gets disrupted, we become anxious and sometimes hard to get along with.  We don't like feeling so unsettled. It is hard not knowing where our coffee pot is.

Fortunately, this will end.  The workers will leave this afternoon and we will begin to put our life back together. Some of the stuff will go back where it was.  Other stuff will find a new home. Some will leave via the church thrift shop.  In a few days, we will be back to some semblance of order.

Other disruptions and the ensuing chaos doesn't end as quickly.  When we lose people who help our life feel ordered and safe, we get angry and feel scared.  We are not just uncomfortable for a few days, but we may be disoriented for months or even years.  The empty chair at the holiday table is not just painful, but it is frightening.  We project that empty space into all the holidays in the future. It just doesn't feel good anymore.

Patience is an easy word to say and a terribly hard word to live. Yet, it takes a lot of it to endure the pain of the emptiness and find the energy to discover a new order in chaos we feel in the upheaval. It helps to find someone to share the space and the disorder with. Find someone to sit with and cry.  Find someone to listen to you as you talk your way forward. Speaking about your pain and fear helps you order your emotions so that you can imagine a new order in your life.