Excerpt
from Chapter 9 from Jon Walks in the Light: A Mother’s
Awakening through Birth and Death
Practicing
Gratitude – Embracing Grace and Beauty
I
often was overcome with spontaneous rushes of gratitude
after Jon’s death, but I certainly had as many, or
more, times when I could not find one single thing to be
grateful for. My life and everything in it, including me,
seemed cursed. The unfairness of the horrible tragedy that
had soiled and ruined my life infuriated and depressed
me. Why me? Why my son? Why did I have to go through such
a terrible, bad thing? I was envious of everyone else who
seemed to have a great time in life and still had their
children with them.
My
previous years of practicing gratitude, especially during
my earlier life crisis, helped me when Jon died, because
one of the first things that washed over me, after the
news of his death, was gratitude. I whispered my gratitude
to the universe, over and over, when I woke up in the middle
of the night, walking down the street or gazing out at
the ocean. ”Thank you, for letting me have him for
twenty-one years. Thank you, for giving me such a loving,
beautiful son. Thank you, for all that my son and I experienced
together.” Those moments of spontaneous gratitude
helped me remember to consciously choose gratitude in other
moments, when only despair, depression and bitterness were
present.
I
would begin my gratitude practice by looking for small
things I could feel honest gratitude for. I gently looked
around for some little detail of beauty or grace. Perhaps
there was a beautiful ray of sunshine coming in through
my window or perhaps I could enjoy one sweet, deep breath.
I did not try to force myself or demand that I feel grateful;
I just opened one tiny cell in my heart to the possibility
of gratitude. I gave myself a soft invitation to look in
that direction. Oftentimes Leah helped with her natural
toddlers curiosity by picking up tiny rocks, exploring
the insides of a flower bud or poking her tiny fingers
into a hole in the bark of an old oak. She showed me the
magic of the microscopic universe.
I
continually looked for little things and things I took
for granted to practice my gratitude with. Sometimes a
drop of morning dew or the hot water in my bathtub, were
the only things I could find true gratitude for. I focused
on that one little thing fully and let the gratitude fill
me. I whispered “Thank you for this brilliant, shining
dewdrop. Gratitude is present now.”
Slowly
my gratitude practice expanded to include all the powerful,
dark emotions I experienced. I whispered ”Thank you” when
another wave of grief or despair hit me in the stomach.
I wondered if that is what Jesus really meant when he spoke
of turning the other cheek. During my grief process I felt
like I was slapped around by a force much larger than myself
and instead of resisting it, I offered gratitude, and turned
the other check for the next blow of grief or despair.
The
power of gratitude and the practice of engaging in it simply
for it’s own reward grew into a powerful energy that
held and filled all of my life. The grace of gratitude
embraced the most horrible, dark, tragic thing that had
ever happened to me. I could give thanks for the death
of my son.
Gratitude
gave me strength and kept me out of the pits of self pity,
envy and victim mentality. Gratitude contains so much light
it has the power to transform the most horrid events into
healing and beauty. In my sensitive, raw state I would
experience one tiny prayer of gratitude as a bolt of transforming
light entering my awareness. It would instantly alter my
state of mind and lift me up to a higher level.
After
I had practiced on small things for a while, I began feeling
honest gratitude for my forced surrender and retreat of
grief. A knowing that the process was good for me and would
bring unseen blessings filled me, a knowing that everything
is as it should be.
In
giving a ”Thank you” instead of ”Why
me?” I gave myself a gift, a hug of love, and a beautiful
opening into grace instead of a feeling of anguish and
despair. I would ask myself ”Why complain that I
got to keep him for only twenty-one years? Why not give
thanks for the beautiful gift, instead of complaining that
it didn’t last longer?”
I
went to the library and looked up the word crisis and found
out it is a Greek word that means important turning point.
The word tragedy, also a Greek word, means critical turning
point. ”I am at an important turning point in my
life,” felt infinitely better than ”I am in
a crisis” or ”a tragedy has happened to me.” That
shift helped me respect, embrace and honor the process
I was in and to see it as the most important work I would
probably do in my entire life.
I
realized, that if I could meet and make friends with my
son’s death, my important turning point, there was
nothing I could not face with love, including my own death.
In seeing the importance in my turning point I could give
it time and space and allow it to unfold and bloom into
fullness
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