I had a grief upsurge yesterday, probably because I haven’t been grieving much and it’s been building up, but the upsurge itself was instigated by a song.
It started with my session of dance therapy (I call it that, but all I do is prance around for two or three songs in an effort to add a bit of lightness to my step and my life). The first song was “Cry Cry Cry” by Highway 101.
I wonder if he knows what he’s done to me
I’m gonna love that boy till the day I die
Till the day I do I’m gonna cry cry cry.
What a mood brightener! But I managed to get through that song dry-eyed. I even managed to get through the second song without tearing up — “You’re in My Heart” by Rod Stewart
You’re in my heart, you’re in my soul
You’ll be my breath should I grow old
You are my lover, you’re my best friend
You’re in my soul
Yikes. Not the song to cheer up a woman who has lost her mate. But the third one did me in — “Sailing” by Rod Stewart.
Can you hear me, can you hear me
Through the dark night far away?
I am dying, forever crying
To be with you, who can say.
Even worse, I found myself haunted by those words all day yesterday and into today. Oddly, though, I transposed the words, and what went around and around in my head was “I am crying, forever dying.”
Out walking in the desert today, I had a bit of a mystical revelation. (Or sunstroke. It was hot out there.) What if that’s the truth of it? We are forever dying? Not just now in this lifetime, but forever? What if life is the aberration, and dying (not death) the norm?
Some scientists say the universe is dying, that there are more stars dying out than being born. Maybe someday, when it’s all over, there will be another big bang, and the whole cycle will start again. Perhaps each cycle is a single breath of “The EveryThing.”
I guess what I’m saying is maybe life as we know it is more of a static state than dying is. With dying comes transformation.
Did I mention that it was very HOT in the desert?