The following entries (from beginning runner to half marathon finisher) represents a continuing journey of tremendous grief and sorrow, and of transformation - largely through the therapeutic power of running. The sorrow that has broken my heart open wide has in time allowed me to experience the beauty of being in the present moment. And of course, without the support of family and friends to guide me, I would not have made it this far.

If you have lost someone in your life, I offer these words and verse (some Kristy's, some mine and others) with the hope it may touch your heart and help you heal.
mailto:clarksonart@gmail.com


Tuesday, February 17, 2009

FISH OR CUT BAIT


Kristy and Me

Last night I got a call from a young friend of mine. I had already told my husband Bill, if anyone came by the house I did not want to see them. I was feeling very sad and couldn't seem to see my way out of it. When you're like this it's hard to talk to anyone... I thought about this today as I forced myself to run on the treadmill. Part of not wanting to be around anyone is because I am afraid that if I don't start acting happier I will lose the friends I have. They will feel awkward and not know what to say. There comes a time when you just have to "fish or cut bait" - isn't that how it goes?

So as I sat on the sofa last night I saw the images of the Amgen Pro Tour - all the cyclists doing time trials out on the road with Lance Armstrong. It's terribly rainy and cold here right now and it must have been daunting to take it mile after mile. The cyclists road one of the same routes Kristy did with her teammates. They probably even rode right by her memorial at the side of the highway. My heart ached so deeply, I felt as if someone was sitting on my throat as I tried to keep the sorrow from over flowing. If Kristy were here I would have recorded the races and she and I would be watching them together.

So this is when my young friend called. I call him "my" young friend. He was really Kristy's friend. Now that she is gone he has become mine as well. So I guess he's now our friend. I hadn't spoken to him in a few weeks so it was good to hear his voice. I normally try to be upbeat on the phone, but this evening I could not hide how I felt.

Our friend had written a poem about a beautiful experience he had shared with Kristy. We talked about it and reminisced. I finally had to blurt out what was bothering me. I am afraid at some point my memories of Kristy will become shadowy and I will lose what little I have left of her. You know you've hit a soft spot when it cuts you to the heart, and you have a hard time even speaking about it.

What a tremendous gift he gave me, when he listened as I poured out my heart. And I mean really listened. He was feeling sad too, he admitted. It would come and go for him as well. It's comforting to know I am not alone in this grief. There are others who feel it as well and know it is not simply something you can get over. They don't just try to cheer you up. It is now something you must live with. It goes to bed with you, gets up with you each morning and stays with you throughout the day. Only you can determine where it sits at the table.

As I was running today I thought about last night. About my inability to trust others with my fears. The ones that haunt me seem too terrible to admit to myself, let alone anyone else. The greatest gift is to be able to share these thoughts with someone who understands, maybe because they have them too. I think this is when we are challenged to rise to the occasion. When the other person needs encouragement - in doing so it helps you to listen to the secret part of you that still holds out hope for redemption.

When my daughter Laurissa and I talk it is certainly like this. Our path together is worn deep with tearful journeys and agonizing attempts to understand what has happened. Now I can see clearly, our unconditional love for each other is what has kept us from giving up. There are others too - like my sister who still calls me each day just to talk. My husband who still makes dinner every night and comes home to see me at lunch. My friend David who seems to always know what to say. My brother Jeff who can still make me laugh with his irreverent sense of humor. The greatest gift in the world is knowing I can be myself with them. That I don't ever have to "cut bait". They can accept me for what I have been left with and they don't try to hide themselves from me in return. At this moment I see I have much for which to be thankful.

Why are we so full of restraint? Why do we not give in all directions? Is it fear of losing ourselves? Until we do lose ourselves there is no hope of finding ourselves. - Henry Miller

Today's Run: 6 miles on treadmill. It's still raining - tomorrow may be sunny!

3 comments:

  1. What a great way to share how you are feeling in this moment! You need not fear losing memory of Kristy - you have made her the memory of others as well with this blog.

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  2. i did not ask for this
    yet have no choice but accept it

    super ultra vivid life

    you will never have to cut bait with me
    for we are a part of each other

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  3. 'm glad you read this because of course it was about you. Thank you for all you have given to me. I feel such joy in seeing you grow strong and determined. And yet still stay young and tender. You are a composite of opposites - ying and yang. It is hard to "fit in" when you are like this, right? Thankfully there comes a point in life when we don't care anymore about fitting in. This is real freedom. Not the freedom to do what we want, but the freedom that comes from loving what we do. Love, Karen

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