How are you “hole”ding up?
Have you previously lived in a bubble? Did you fight your way in, want back to normal, or did you find the new refreshing? Maybe some of both? I’m curious.
We lived in a bubble for four and a half years. This newer version is different yet familiar.
Many years ago, we were forced into a new life. An accident sent our spunky daughter home brain injured and unable to function. I kicked, punching the sides in a break for our former life. The answer, no. A resounding no, as Aviana required round the clock care.
Drinks with friends, dinners, playdates, overnights at nana and papa’s, trips away—canceled.
So hurt Aviana didn’t qualify for services, so our square footage turned occupational, speech, and physical therapy. By day, we cared and carried out recovery. By night a rabbit hole of “what if.”
After a month, falling wasn’t an option for me, us and especially Avi, so to our new counselor, Maggie, I asked for ideas. “Blinders” she said. Huh? Put them on, go about your day. If thoughts drift, “blinders” focus on your cup of coffee, therapy, your task.
Ahhh, the many times I started and stopped “The Power of Now” surfaced. Living in the present was no longer an interesting read but reality, survival. Now was challenging in the beginning but fast became freeing.
While life in the bubble was trying, the gift of family, friends and ordinary people was our sanctuary. With the common goal of recovery, health and well-being clear—the best rose, lived, breathed, and remained. A reciprocity of warm meals and smiles by way of baked goods. Visits to our daughter in the hospital, help with therapy and our charity in her name. Through our darkest and at all hours—notes, letters, a text to soften rough edges. A call, impromptu stops showing smiling faces to say hi. Contact lists crossed, good to and from each other extended and intertwined. Where one couldn’t, another did.
Our daughter died and the bubble burst. I still can’t tell where one ended and the other began. I find it interesting how hard I fought to leave normal life because every day since Avi died, work to hold or remain within our sacred place.
During these new days, when people ask how we’re doing, dare I say good. I’m torn. We keep distance to protect the ones we love and those we don’t know but love too. I’m closely familiar and know there’s no word for contributing to the sickness, strain and demise of another human being. The feeling/look of the person is jagged, multi-faceted, and theirs alone. How can I say good as doors are closed and people are in deep, dying and dead? While families can’t visit, be with, and actually hold the hand of their love while crossing to wherever we go?
I say good because a collective return to what’s most important feels good. Good rising, springing in health care and within our grocery stores, in delivering food to our most vulnerable, our parents and neighbors. Donating to our local food banks and community businesses. Educators and their creativity with distance learning and the curbside delivery of lunches. Inventive ways of celebrating birthdays and holidays. Connecting in deeper more meaningful ways. Thinking less while laughing more. Sincerity at its most sincere. A bringing home. And I hear and get that not everyone wants, likes, can be home but life has a weird way with what we don’t want and things that don’t go our way, they tend to look (al)right down the road. How far, one never knows ; ) What I do know is people are inherently resilient. I hear the bad, bored and scarred and know to some degree, all will be okay. I challenge better than okay. The pushing of what we have and making home cooked meals, while gathering around (for those who’ve had enough of each other for the day, separate under one roof). More time to contemplate, be still (even if that space is locked in a closet for hide and for the love of God don’t seek). A walk, a drive on the open road—seeing our earth heal in a small window of time.
Yin yang yes, it’s sad how it takes accidents, that cars strike, brains are injured, children are killed at their most vibrant. That viruses sweep, devastating nations. That lives must be lost, but I suppose appreciation is deepest felt and most lasting when hearts are speared.
“The secret to life is to “die before you die” and find that there is no death.
Eckhart Tolle
