Thursday evening Tim and I were lounging around watching TV. The phone rang, and Tim picked it up.
"Hello? ... Hi, Jim ..."
In the thinnest margin of time, in the shortest nano-second imaginable, my heart lept out of my chest - Dad is on the phone?! - No, Dad is dead.
There was no slow leaking of tears, no sniffles. There was instant, full on weeping - sobbing really. My body was instantly wracked with violent tears, and all of it caused by synapses in my brain over which I have no control. Instinct at the sound of my dad's name. The longing in my heart to hear his voice, see his face, glean comfort from his presence. It was odd, to say the least. And it left me shaken for a couple hours. And it resulted in very strange dreams for a couple nights.
How much I still miss him! My brain knows it. My body knows it. My soul knows it.
Last night I went to the symphony. It was marvelous! (I've splurged on season tickets this year as they are both a great deal and a wonderful balm to my soul.) The first piece they played was by Jean Sibelius (of whom I'd never heard - I'm kind of a classical music nincompoop) - Violin Concerto in D Minor, Op. 47. It showcased a solo violinist who was out of this world! And the music - it was so sad. It instantly transported me back to Dad's hospital room, to the day he died, planning his funeral. It was like the piece of music was written to express all the phases of losing someone you love. My heart was so moved, and so fed at the same time. Wonderful and so beautiful.
All this is to say that these two things have brought me to reflect on what miracles we are. Our bodies alone are wondrous in the speed with which they respond. The soloist last night played with speed and precision, her fingers making tiny moves along the strings, the bow moving furiously at times. And out of all that frenetic movement, a wondrous sound emerges - precise, beautiful, amazing!
A fingertip touches a hot pan and nearly instantly messages are conveyed that I should draw away, and my body responds. I hear my dad's name in a greeting, and without time to think, my brain leaps around to places I couldn't possibly have planned.
I am in awe of the wonder of our brains and our emotions.
We are made in a marvelous way. We are miracles roaming this earth - the complexity of our bodies, our minds, our souls and how they are intertwined. Fascinating, wonderful, beautiful.
And all this wonder works together as my body and mind work out my grief and healing, as I garden, as I spend time with lovely people, as I play with nephews and hike with friends. I am amazing and so thankful for my good health this fall. Look how I've healed! I am a wonder to behold.
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