Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Heartbreak to Happiness

Aurora Winter, Wisdom Quarterly


Joy and Sorrow
Then a woman said, "Speak to us of joy and sorrow."
And he answered: Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.
And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.
Some of you say, "Joy is greater than sorrow,"
and others say, "Nay, sorrow is the greater."
But I say unto you, they are inseparable.
- KAHLIL GIBRAN
1. TRAGEDY
Pummeled by a waterfall of grief
so intense and powerful,
it takes all my strength and concentration
to simply remain standing under the assaulting deluge.
Or I surrender -- and I’m swept away.



Premonition
(18 DAYS PRIOR TO HIS DEATH)
I dream that I’m walking toward a door. An ordinary door in an ordinary room. I open the door, continuing on my way. Immediately, I regret that innocent step, for the door opens into a black void. There is no floor. No ceiling. No walls. Just emptiness stretching on forever and a wind that howls its loneliness and whips my hair into my stinging eyes. Desperate, I try to scramble backward to safety, but it’s too late. Relentless, gravity claims me. I plummet into dark emptiness.

The only thing that makes life possible is permanent, intolerable uncertainty; not knowing what comes next.
-URSULA K. LEGUIN

Tragedy (DAY 1)
The nurse plagues me with questions. “What’s his name? Where do you live?” I want to scream at her, Don’t you know my husband’s not breathing? I don’t belong here! I belong at my husband’s side! I race toward Emergency, toward closed doors. The fireman who administered CPR in the ambulance exits. He sees the question on my face. “I’m sorry.”

And then I know he’s dead. My husband is dead. The fireman envelops me, comforts me with a hug. I feel heat and sweat and caring. He tried so hard to revive him. And failed. Everything is a blur. The air is thick like water. Everything is muffled. Everything is in slow motion. David lies on a hospital bed in a room alone. He could be sleeping. His body is still warm.

I bawl and wail my grief, words tumbling out, a torrent of things I need to say. I nestle my head against his chest, like I did when we were sleeping. I feel soothed, I feel heard. He is still here. He is lingering in the air, lingering in the warmth of his body. I pour my heart out to him, I tell him how much I love him. Hours later, I grow quiet. Finally, I lift my head from his chest, where it had lain safe and sheltered in love every night for ten years. More
  • From Heartbreak to Happiness is a book by life coach, author, and speaker Aurora Winter, endorsed by New York Times best-selling author Dr. Wayne Dyer. Her gifts of recovery are dedicated to the world's peace and prosperity.
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