Wonderful and tender prompts for me personally today—having just had a parent die to the ravages of dementia. Metaphorically speaking, in other words, a pretty big broken leg. But I love the word resilience—when I was an educator, we studied our children deeply, especially our children of trauma, and discovered so many had deep wells of resilience within, they just needed skills, strategies, and tools to access it turning PTSD into post-traumatic growth. Just like the centipede’s molting to begin forming a new leg, just like teaching strategies to kids from trauma, leaning into the pain of grief of a loved one’s death is a process; and just like you write so beautifully Tomi, one need not suffer because of the pain. The pain is there, absolutely. In life, there is always going to pain. One only needs to experience it fully, lean into it, learn from it, and begin healing. That, or molt.
Then, suffering becomes optional. Can’t wait for the next Proverb—they seem to come, thematically, at just the right time.
Oh, dear Kert, my heart goes out to you, your wife, brothers, and the rest of your family. Your dad fought a good fight and it is wonderful to read on your blog some of the accounts of the intentional commitment to his care till the end. You all did well and your dad couldn't have been prouder of his children.
As you rightly noted, coping with the pain of grief requires "leaning into the process." You have been doing that with dignity and showing us how to manage the process of dying, death, and the aftermath better. Having experienced it fully, leaned into it, learning from it, may your healing be swift and full. I will continue to hold you all up in prayer as you deal with the "pretty big broken leg" of your dad's passing. May you find comfort when you feel the sting of his death the most. May your heart rejoice at recollections of the life he lived. Yes, we may have a leg broken badly, but suffering can also become optional. Peace and comfort to you as you exercise the option of suffering for a while while your broken leg molts.
I appreciate you reading through the post. Glad you found it meaningful.
Wonderful and tender prompts for me personally today—having just had a parent die to the ravages of dementia. Metaphorically speaking, in other words, a pretty big broken leg. But I love the word resilience—when I was an educator, we studied our children deeply, especially our children of trauma, and discovered so many had deep wells of resilience within, they just needed skills, strategies, and tools to access it turning PTSD into post-traumatic growth. Just like the centipede’s molting to begin forming a new leg, just like teaching strategies to kids from trauma, leaning into the pain of grief of a loved one’s death is a process; and just like you write so beautifully Tomi, one need not suffer because of the pain. The pain is there, absolutely. In life, there is always going to pain. One only needs to experience it fully, lean into it, learn from it, and begin healing. That, or molt.
Then, suffering becomes optional. Can’t wait for the next Proverb—they seem to come, thematically, at just the right time.
Oh, dear Kert, my heart goes out to you, your wife, brothers, and the rest of your family. Your dad fought a good fight and it is wonderful to read on your blog some of the accounts of the intentional commitment to his care till the end. You all did well and your dad couldn't have been prouder of his children.
As you rightly noted, coping with the pain of grief requires "leaning into the process." You have been doing that with dignity and showing us how to manage the process of dying, death, and the aftermath better. Having experienced it fully, leaned into it, learning from it, may your healing be swift and full. I will continue to hold you all up in prayer as you deal with the "pretty big broken leg" of your dad's passing. May you find comfort when you feel the sting of his death the most. May your heart rejoice at recollections of the life he lived. Yes, we may have a leg broken badly, but suffering can also become optional. Peace and comfort to you as you exercise the option of suffering for a while while your broken leg molts.
I appreciate you reading through the post. Glad you found it meaningful.
This is great notivation! Keep moving forward. A setback should be followed by a comeback.
Yes, Roz. A comeback is a possibility that we can realize if we make sure that setbacks do not set us back. Thank you for stating it so beautifully.