Heart Wide Open

On the day my husband’s heart burst I was having lunch with our 15 year old daughter.  

We were on Berkeley’s 4th Street eating Sushi at Iyasare, where I took the photo of her above. We talked about how feelings are the language of the soul.  I told her I wanted to understand how she felt, and asked that she describe her feelings to me, and in a very open and articulate way she did. I remember the day as full of white light. It was very hot in the East Bay, but 20 degrees cooler through the Caldacott Tunnel. The fog had just lifted, but the air held the molecules of moisture in a light mist, this is the same phenomenon that gives San Fransisco the lavender lighting that painters and artist go there for. 

At the time, I had no idea how meaningful this conversation would be.  But as I navigated the days ahead,  I made an effort to not resist my own feelings and to actively feel them, and honestly they hurt like hell.  It felt like hot coals were burning inside my own heart.  Still, I refused to close my heart no matter how much it hurt, because I did not want to wake up in a month, a year, a decade, and still be in this same place of emotional pain.  

I did, however, have moments of grace, and I wrote the following in my journal the day of the funeral.

August 3, 2016

“This beautiful sunny morning I awake in the guest room, with the creek alive outside the open window.  The air is cold, but golden.  I feel so blessed for just this – the eastern sunlight on the trees and the clear blue sky.  I hear a phone ringing in the distance. The garbage truck pulls up with it’s familiar clank, clank, clank.  I walk downstairs and can feel the cool and smooth floors beneath my feet.  My home is full of the most beautiful little girls; Sara, Zoe, Maddie, Brianna, my niece Sophie and my daughters.  I don’t know what will happen next, but I know we will all be safe, and held in God’s love.”

In the days since, the pain has lessened, and I have felt so many different emotions.  I watch them as they come and then pass.  I don’t hold onto them, but feel them completely and listen carefully to what they have to say, then release them like a conversation.  They are after all, the language of my soul.