All endings go through stages. Elizabeth Kubler-Ross’s 5 stages of grief apply whether one is grieving the death of a loved one, the loss of health, a break-up, relocation, loss of job or home. The Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance that she speaks of in her book – On Death and Dying –are all things that I have experienced since my recent break-up and what I see my clients, friends and family go through when they go through a loss of some kind.
I hadn’t seen my ex in 2 months so I was nervous on the drive to meet him. It was awkward but we had a drink and dinner, talking about this and that. I had to remember my intention of listening. Nothing earth shattering was said. No light bulbs went off. There was no discussion of resuming or rebuilding and I felt a great sadness. There had been so much possibility, so much promise, so much heart. We’d called each other soul mates and here we were with so much distance between us. It was shocking.
I missed the warm, loving connection we’d enjoyed, the easy fun we’d had together and still felt the sting of rejection, but my anger and hurt pride gave way to sorrow and compassion, for him, for me and for ‘us’.
I drove him to the parking lot where I’d parked so many times before and watched him walk away toward the stairs to the dinghy dock. He looked slight and solitary in the darkness with the street lamp his spot light. As much as I wanted to reach out and hug him, it felt like the closing scene. I was reminded of early tv’s Jimmy Durante Show where Jimmy Durante, the hook nosed big hearted Borscht Belt comedian, bid adieu to his tv audience each week by walking away from the camera down a dark alley, followed by a lonely spotlight. Just as he’s about to disappear, he turns and says, in his raspy voice, “Goodnight Mrs. Callabash, wherever you are.” It felt like closure: acceptance, letting go, the sound of a door shutting.
I drove away, back to the north side and my newly appointed home with the just power washed deck, skipping jazz at Sapphire for the comfort of chez-moi with the poodles.
While I might wish that Mr. X could have been in this picture with me, enjoying my new queen sized bed, whitewashed fridge, gleaming new faucets and me of course, I am scrubbing away, cleaning, clearing my space and upgrading my life and that’s what’s up for me right now. I am making room for myself to bloom with room to share. I’m planting seeds, getting grounded, financially stable, focused on how I want my life to be and grateful for how it is. Cultivating a state of eager anticipation, I’m healing, seeing things differently and starting to look forward to things unfolding in magical ways as I deliberately create a next chapter that I’m already proud to call my life.
I am not the only one who has suffered a loss big or small, and I’m not the only one who is mourning, regrouping and rediscovering themselves. I hope sharing my experience helps and that this poem by Derek Walcott speaks to you as it does to me.
Love After Love
The time will come
when, with elation,
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the others’ welcome.
and say, Sit here, Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
Peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.
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