glimpses of freedom

When complicated grief descends upon us, we lose our sense of freedom almost completely.  We feel trapped in a shadowy and dense fog of unreality that feels impossible to penetrate.  Even as that fog lifts and we can recognize that there are some good parts of our life still available to us, the loss of lightheartedness, delight remains.  

I remember when I realized that I needed help to regenerate my ability to feel even the slightest glimpse of lightheartedness.  Compassionate and skilled therapy was helping me to not be afraid of the sadness and to plow my way through the web of questions that encumbered me, but how could I find that breath of freedom that my heart so desperately needed? 

It was about that time that our daughter gave me a beautiful porcelain necklace bearing the image of two birds intertwined.  Birds have always been my messengers of peace – a sort of serendipitous cosmic smile given to me in unsuspecting moments.  This has been especially true since our son died.  He loved birds, studied them as a wildlife biologist and could mimic the unique songs of countless species.  So, when I’ve been blessed to be aware of their presence in my day, it has felt like a visit from him.   

Along with this precious gift from my daughter an explanation of the Celtic image of the necklace.  It says:

“Birds play a prominent role in Celtic myth and legend.  As symbols of freedom and transcendence, they represent the human soul in flight, liberated from earthly ties, able to soar in spiritual communication with the heavens. Returning to earth they bring messages of prophecy and guidance, aiding mortals in their spiritual and earthly journeys.  As spirits of the air, they provide a link between the soul and the spiritual forces of the heavens. “

In the numbness of the days after our son died, I felt the distinct release of his spirit from this earthly realm.  I sensed his freedom from the constraints of our tangible existence and was washed in his invisible joy.  It was hard to keep my balance, at first, between that comfort and the visceral pain of loss I also felt.  But I am growing better at choosing to dwell on his joy. 

So, next time you are covered by the fog of sadness, go outside . . .   listen for the birds, watch them float on the air with their characteristic effortlessness and let their trust in the moment lift your heart.