Il mio cuore è spezzato . . . Forza!
Fiona Isabel Wickerbill made her peaceful transition 9 April 2022, surrounded by some loving friends who had known her for many years. She had almost 18 years with me since I met her at the age of 1 month. All is surreal, which is a good thing right now, and my heart continues to break while it heals; "Il mio cuore è spezzato."
I carry closely the response one of my deepest, dearest friends has given me:
"Ogni volta che perdiamo i nostri amori su questo piano, un pezzo di cuore si spezza . La lezione da imparare e’ sempre la stessa: ricongiungere le dimensioni …..E ogni volta credi di non farcela, invece ce la fai. Respira forte, apri le antenne e rintracciala. Forza!"
She has not been all that far away, and indeed, has recently shown up, or perhaps more accurately, my grief is transforming to a place where I can see her again. Of course, she behaves as if nothing has happened, nothing at all. Which reminds me of the most wonderful poem I've yet to find about this experience:
_____________________________
Death is Nothing at All
Henry Scott Holland
(1847–1918)
Death is nothing at all. It does not count.
I have only slipped away into the next room.
Nothing has happened. Everything remains exactly as it was.
I am I, and you are you, and the old life that we lived
so fondly together is untouched, unchanged.
Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.
Call me by the old familiar name.
Speak of me in the easy way which you always used.
Put no difference into your tone.
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrow.
Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes that we enjoyed together.
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.
Let my name be ever the household word that it always was.
Let it be spoken without an effort, without the ghost of a shadow upon it.
Life means all that it ever meant. It is the same as it ever was.
There is absolute and unbroken continuity.
What is this death but a negligible accident?
Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near,
just ’round the corner.
All is well. Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost.
One brief moment and all will be as it was before.
How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!
_________________________________________
Today has been one of those "3 steps backwards day" -- at least it began that way, but what we call "transmutation" can and will begin, when one focuses on the loved one's presence, and not their absence. When we focus on absence, we will feel one way; when focused on presence, we will feel another way .... which feels better? And lo! just as predicted in its earliest pages, "The Risen - A Companion to Grief" reminds me that it was written for me as well. These 2 pages have been especially helpful today, even as I know Fiona is right here, watching me with just a slight touch of impatience.