Spring comes and my world shatters and the daisies keep growing and I stare at them stunned as I walk wounded through my backyard, swimming through thoughts.
I went out on Saturday night, with a friend, to watch my husband and the band he plays with and I haven't been out in a very long time and it felt good. I attended my friend's father's funeral in April, on the 10 year anniversary of the loss of one of my son's and then shortly afterwards my dog died. And then the line between reality and the other world we live in our minds dissolved, not mine but my father's and it was extraordinary and beautiful and painful and cracked parts of my mind as well. Spring is always hard for me and I should kiss the daisies for giving me grace during the difficult times. My friend and I laughed and enjoyed the music which was really good, we took an elevator to another dimension and felt as though we might have entered both a horror movie and the twilight zone all at the same time, you had to be there. And we talked. And he said something that has stuck with me and I am paraphrasing because my memory is not what it used to be but he said that he admires how I move through the difficult, the hard, the painful with such grace.
And he has been witness for a lot of the hard stuff, we have been friends for 20 years afterall. He has been through my divorce, sexual assault (mine not his), poverty, crazy dating adventures, broken engagements, the death of my sister, the birth and death of my twins, this month's reminder that it is all so very tenuous. He has listened to me rant and rage and spew passion and dreams, the crazy of putting up a play together which almost broke us but didn't because friendship. He was the one who would meet me at all hours of the night after hearing my voice through the tinny line of the telephone because he knew I needed coffee and something greasy and a cigarette and that 24 hour diner that is now a sushi place. because he knew I needed an ear. Friends like that are hard to come by and when you find them, hold tight.
Grace. I don't think of myself as a graceful person, bruises on shins and foot in mouth perhaps. but I have thought about it and yes, it is true, I do walk through the grief and the trauma and the painful things with grace because it is a choice that for me isn't really a choice. When the shit hits the every circling ceiling fan and flings itself across the sunlit walls, we have a choice, to do what needs to be done, to clean up the walls and carry on, to love those around us, to stay calm and to live in the integrity of who we are, who we want to be. The alternative is incomprehensible to me, the alternative is one that I don't want to face. Of course, I ugly cry and tear at my hair when it is appropriate to do so with those that will hold me and hold me they do. Of course, when it all ends, the shock and the disbelief dissipates and when there is nothing left to do, I get sick. Always. And then I stumble and look around and wonder is this all there is, what now and I question everything about the way that I am living. But in the moments where it counts, I walk through it with grace.
And the daisies keep growing and they sway on slender stalks. And the world keeps turning and it is ugly, so ugly and it is beautiful, so beautiful and I can't keep up with the outrage and the anger and the love and the constant barrage of grief and shock and awe and opinion and confusion and clarity and moments, so many moments constantly happening everywhere and so I focus on what I have built and I adjust and move the sections here and there. And I won't wait for the next shoe to drop because shoes are always dropping but peace is found in the eye of the storm and this past month has reminded me of that and life is hard even as it is easy and that is a contradiction I can live with. There is no certainty and I am owed nothing and I watch the roses bloom, petals drifting down and I watch the daisies sway and the beauty makes my breath catch.