Grieving Out Loud

I recently watched this video of a reading done by a woman who lost her son, Kai.  She doesn't blog, but wanted to share her words with the rest of us so she posted it online.

I was hesitant to watch it at first.

I was afraid it made upset me.  Or that it might be totally cheesy (which also would have upset me).  That she might dare to speak of silver linings, that there might be talk of angel wings, that she might insist that this would all make sense some day in the grand scheme of things.  That she might seem peaceful or resigned, while I am still raging and spitting and sobbing in the darkness. 

(Incidentally, I should add that I may have given angels a bad rep here.  Although I don't like the idea of my Eliza being an angel, I have no beef with angels themselves.  We were given two beautiful Christmas ornaments with angels and Eliza's name on them, and I like them very much.  One of them I didn't even pack away with the Christmas stuff--I wanted to keep it out on display.  We even gave David's grandmother a charm in the shape of an angel with Eliza's name on it for her birthday.  I don't mind the symbolism of angels at all.  I just don't want Eliza to literally be one.  This is an important distinction to me.  Maybe this seems irrational or at least unreasonable.  Well, it is what it is.)

At any rate, it's true that Kai's mom is not raging and spitting in this video.

Nor is she offering trite cliches or vague promises.  She voices a pain that is all-too-familiar to me, but she also offers the steadiness of someone who is a bit further out from her loss than I am (she lost Kai last June, on his due date).  Her tribute to this experience is honest and beautiful.

She is mourning, but she is also healing.

And I think her words helped me heal a little, too.

Ceil, Word Off 2011 Starlight Theatre, Terlingua, TX from sally martin on Vimeo.