The New Kitchen Mystic by Mary Hayes Grieco

Author:Mary Hayes Grieco
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria Books

LOSS

See! I will not forget you—I have engraved you on the palm of my hand.

Isaiah 49:16

Loss is something we think of as an exception to normal life, an aberration. But this perspective must be wrong, because loss happens so often. I have had many losses: a child, a best friend, a family business. If this sort of loss isn’t happening to me right now, it’s happening to someone I know or someone on the news. No matter how much I say that life is unpredictable and beyond my control, it is still a major shock to me every time this proves to be true.

Every time I face a loss, I remember a few things. I remember that the Universe is simultaneously dispassionate and compassionate toward its members. It is dispassionate in that it is no respecter of persons. It does not care how much money you lost, how embarrassing your scandal is, how gross your accident was, or how young your children are when your spouse contracts a terrible illness. This cool dispassion is the meaning behind the esoteric slogan “Shit happens.”

On the other hand, the Presence within this Universe is completely compassionate toward us when we suffer through anything, large or small. When I am reeling from sudden loss, I turn vulnerably toward that Presence, and I find myself in a warm pocket of peace and benevolence amid my grief. My heart opens in love and compassion for myself and others; I soften into the richness of the present moment. Every need I have is met, as fast as I can think of it. Friends and strangers alike become emissaries of this love. At these times I think, I understand now. I will remember this. This is the experience expressed by the bumper sticker “Love happens.”

Then there is the problem of integrating my loss into daily life. This is difficult to accomplish gracefully. After I have granted myself a certain amount of time to be emotional and get some support, I rally and get back into normal life. I have thoughts like Come on, get on the ball, back in the saddle, back into production. But it’s hard to accept that I need to be with loss for as long as it takes me to heal. I become painfully aware that no one is paying me for all the hours I need to stare into space after a loss. I find myself resisting being soft and vulnerable to the Presence, the way I was in the midst of my crisis. There are times when I cannot bear to walk forward with the awareness of my real helplessness.

Yesterday morning, I looked out my window and found a hurt sparrow lying on its back out in the cold. I ran outside and scooped it gently into my hands. My intention was to move it to a quiet place away from my dog, so it could die undisturbed—its neck was obviously broken. As I carried it, the bird looked into my eyes with peaceful curiosity, apparently unafraid.

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