When I was a very young girl, my mother took us to a lighthouse. Normally, this would be just an adventure for a young person. However, we climbed the lighthouse in a hurricane on the outer banks of North Carolina. It was really scary and even today strong winds can conjure up feelings of helplessness in me. Upon reaching the top of the lighthouse, my mother stepped outside and quickly had her raincoat ripped off and sent into the heavens. Luckily for me, my brother and I were not outside or we, like her raincoat, probably would have been sent to the heavens as well.
Today, president Obama spoke of grief in the wake of the Oklahoma Tornado. He stated that Americans would be with the people of Oklahoma as they begin this road to recovery and personal grief. Death is so much like a tornado that comes out of nowhere and just picks up your life and throws it away to places you can never reach again. What was once such a happy home becomes a heap of trash that you are scarcely strong enough to rebuild. You pick through the rubble with no understanding of what is to come. Few have a real understanding of grief and its myriad roads to wander. I know, for me, that lighthouse is a powerful metaphor. It represents a safe place I can go hoping somehow I will be alright. However, now that lighthouse is within my heart. Why we must survive these storms in our lives is still a mystery to me. The answer may not come in my lifetime, or maybe it will.
Moving through my grief after four years can now handle some laughter and tears. I want and need fewer tears and more laughter.
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