HelenzArt-life-musings

Month: Jan 2024

  • Seeing some light.

    This painting came into being in 2022, whilst waiting for my mother-in-law to transition from this Earthly world to some other state of being. Its part of a series I call the ‘Waiting Room’ and can be found on my art website.

    http://www.helenzart2021.com

    Yes, that’s how I see and feel the passing on of a bodied person is. A transformation of beingness from this bodied person, within which is a spirited soul, and the release of those Earthly ties to set a spirit free.

    I started feeling this when the overwhelming pain that Gavins’ death engulfed me with had begun to settle. Whilst sat in the moments of stillness, which come after the releasing of emotional energy through sobbing those copious tears with body wracking heaves, I felt those tugged threads of continued connection. Those heart strings that sing at the memories of his smile, the quiet laugh at a wry comment. His voice, that deepened from childhood to manhood yet always him. A felt knowing that physical presence was not all that he gave, that what was of essence within that body was still in existence. Still held in my own soul spirit, woven into my own fabric of existence, of beingness. So what was I to do with this awakening of connection.

    Like many humans, I began to look beyond the survival needs to ponder on purpose. When feeling purposeless seems to be a result of losing a loved one. Especially one that has been a central part of ones caring. What even is a purpose? Is it to simply be mother, daughter, wife, colleague, and friend, in many cases that is enough. Yet what if there is more to be found. A potential to see that whilst those are important, there is more to being those parts and roles that to be all, and yet none of those is to be more whole. What was to be done by me to bring my potential wholeness to the fore. To be a better version of this bodied person living fully now.

    That sudden loss was bringing the realisation that there is no future for certain. All could be lost in the blink of an eye. Gavin had achieved much in his 28 years, things that had allowed a fulfilling of some of his dreams, and I felt proud and grateful that my nurturing of him in those early years had been a purpose of mine. Where now to place that nurturing spirit that wells up from within. Where indeed!

  • What a difference a year makes!

    What started with the loss of our son, Gavin, became a whole different direction once that embracing of emotion was allowed to takes its own course.

    There’s no denying it was extremely painful in moments, even long moments, yet they were transitory. The allowing was in flow, coming and welcomed, ebbing to and fro. Those inbetween times were of the ordinary and yet were leading me towards extra-ordinary. The feeling that the loss of his physical presence had some how pulled a thread, a soul thread from with in me to be examined. To look for where this soul of mine was hidden.

    At Gavins committal service there were people there who we knew that knew Gavin and some that we had no idea of. His death meant something to them as did his life and interaction with them. His life had touched theirs in a way that we could have no knowledge of. So his soul thread had touched the fabric of their lives and secured his beingness to theirs. His going had tugged on their threads to move them towards something else. Be that a realising that life is transient, that removal from this physical life can happen no matter what age one is. A facing up to and conversation of death and seeing that there is a purpose to how we do, what we do now, rather than next week or next year. To try to live fully today in this moment. Who knows if that stuck or not, and it is up to them to feel it.

    I simply felt that tug to become more ‘now’, to be the better me in each moment. How wasn’t fully formed yet, it would sift through in the quiet moments, and that is OK. It’s still OK to not really know or understand as the feeling is all that’s needed. Threads, strands of spirit have become a curiosity to me. That life tapestry that is poetically thought of as part of life and so much more. I feel the warp and weft that interweaves through all things.

  • Seeing through the darkness

    This is a recent painting of mine. When in the depths of grief, there often feels a lack of light. Yet the light is still there, remembered as the good times of laughter and love that we shared with our loved one, who has now transitioned to being elsewhere. The light glimmers and seems out of reach sometimes. Yet it only takes a moment to step into that darkness to see the light. To allow that light to fall on the shadow cast over the heart. Yes for a while it may seem as though that light of remembrances hurt and perhaps even deepens the shade. Yet when we hold those good times near, give ourselves permission to laugh or simply smile a little, cherish the memories that those loved ones have left as a legacy, the light will shine into those corners. Shift the grey to a brighter hue.

  • What does life look like after a loss?

    For me it pretty much looked the same though coloured by the emotions of the loss. We still needed to eat and keep clean. Chores to be done, bills to pay, dogs to walk and tend to. Work to go to, though with a phased return, offering the proviso that if I felt the need to take an unscheduled break I would. 

    Going back to work was actually easy, my closer coworkers had been told of my circumstances but there were others who didn’t know and even after afew weeks I was able to speak about it with out feeling overwhelmed. 

    It’s funny how we try to be tender with other people’s feelings at these times. To make it easier on them to deal with that knowledge of someone’s suffering. Yes, I would often go for a quick weep or deep breaths in the solitude of my car, that being my way to embrace the emotion and not deny it or save it for later. The return to everyday things can make us feel guilty too, perhaps. That we are carrying on as ‘normal’ and the grief and pain looses their grip a little. It’s OK to feel it. It’s survival.

    In that first 6 months I watched my hubby fall to pieces. Trying too hard to be ‘normal’ struggling to express his emotions. Saying yes to work when he ought to say ‘no’. His work asking to much anyway given the circumstances. I had to leave work a couple of times to go to support him as he tried to make sense of world so unfamiliar. It was heart wrenching to see him slumped on the stairs, purposeless and hurting. Yet all I could do was support. Let him know and hold space for him to feel all he was feeling. I felt deep down that I couldn’t rescue him from this. That all I could do was hold his hand as he found his own way to heal, walk his own path to safer ground. By my sharing and showing that grieving fully was OK, that I was willing to share our grief, together, with ugly sobs and snotty noses. That neither he nor I had to be strong and calm for the other, simply be there and hug.

    Why did I feel that to embrace all was the right way? It simply did feel right. A deep knowing that surfaced, and was going to bring support for me and those around me. If they couldn’t do it for themselves, I could show them how. 

    A serendipitous event then came my way. A reshuffle was happening at work, and redundancy was an option on the table. The payout would support my financial contributions to the household for a year, and so I took that chance. I would be able to support my hubby through his own stages of grief as well as begin my own explorations about purpose. that were starting to sift up. Percolating through the emotions and senses that our/my loss had shaken loose within.