Forgiveness

I am a little bit less angry today.

I think I need to cry more. I think I have been, unknowingly, holding in too many tears. I thought I had been crying enough. But I have such a weight in my chest, a heaviness between my breasts, that I have been holding since Harry passed over. I think that might just be the weight of all of my yet un-shed tears. I have cried a river but I think I am holding in an ocean.

So, today I resolve to cry more. To let out my fear and anger and bitterness. To try, once and for all, to let it all go. I know it will take time, to drain this ocean. I cannot unleash it all at once. The rush would be overwhelming. So I have to let it slowly trickle out.

In a recent conversation with Kimberly, my energy field-work teacher and guide, she told me that when she was working with Harry a few weeks before he passed over, his main concern with dying was that we would not forgive him for doing what he had to do. That we would not forgive him for going, for dying. He had done all he had come to do but he wanted, needed, to be sure we would be able to forgive him before he could pass over.

In that conversation, Kimberly asked me if I had even been angry at Harry for getting cancer.

At the time, I had answered, "No." And I can honestly say that during the time Harry was sick, it never occurred to me to be mad at him for getting cancer. I was too focused on healing him to waste time being mad at him. I sure was mad at God at times and I was mad at myself, for whatever I may have unknowingly done to cause his cancer. For not exercising enough, maybe not eating healthfully enough when I was pregnant, for putting him through too much stress in the womb. If that is even possible. But I was never mad at Harry. Overwhelmingly, I have only felt love for Harry.

But, yesterday in the kitchen, I realized I do, on a deep, unconscious level, I do experience a kind of irrational anger at Harry for getting cancer and dying. And at my Dad for getting cancer and dying.

The only thing that makes sense to me, to explain suffering in our lives, is that in some way, our soul chooses with God before we are born, what major things we want to experience in our lives here on Earth. I don't mean this in a 'pre-destination', we-have-no-free-will kind of thing. I am not sure exactly how I mean it. It is just that suffering as a primary way we can experience and learn is the only way I can make sense of suffereing.

By this line of reasoning, it only makes sense to say that Harry choose to come and experience the life he had, to come for a short time for an intense love experience is how I like to think about it. To believe this helps me make sense of this experience.

But then, it does lead to an experience of anger.

"Dammit, Harry, why did you choose this? Why did you choose to come for such a short time? Why for this experience? Why couldn't you have chosen to come for a long, long time? To be with us for a full, 'normal' human lifetime?"

In the kitchen, yesterday, I yelled at Harry, "Today, Harry, Mummy is very angry at you for dying. Today I do not forgive you. Today I am just completely angry at you for leaving us".

I went to the U of M for the first time since getting back from France and tried to work, to clean up email, to jump-start my journal paper. And of course I wrote my blog posting.

When I was walking home from the bus through Wolseley yesterday afternoon. A quote posted on the side of St. Margaret's Anglican Church on Westminster caught my eye.

I am constantly amazed at the coincidences that have occurred in our life since Harry got sick. Both Henry and I have commented on many occasions, how we have been constantly amazed at how what ever we have needed has just seemed to materialize when it was needed. A saying, a hug, a friend, a message, a song. Maybe it is true what the sages say, there are no coincidences in life, only the Universe giving us exactly what we need whenever we need it, if only we are open and willing to receive.

Well the quote on the side of St. Margaret's stopped me mid-stride. It was from Dag Hammarskjold:

"Forgiveness is the answer to the child's dream of a miracle by which what is broken is made whole again."

I am pretty sure I have a broken heart. I know that is generally just used figuratively and that it is not something that could be 'detected' by modern medicine. But my heart feels broken all the same.

I guess working on forgiveness is the first step in making whole my broken heart.

In light and love,
Cynthia