Friday, June 26, 2009

Primal Scream

Part of an ongoing personal history... the story of living through my partner's coma in 2001. I'm writing it down for the first time to reach out to others who have lived through, or are going through life's losses.

The nice thing about living on 35 acres is that you can go outside whenever you want and scream your head off and no one will call the cops.

Why was I outside screaming my head off? I was trying to keep my heart from hurting so much. I wanted the pain to go away. I wanted Some One to hear me and make my world right. The love of my life was in the hospital, hooked up to a dozen IVs, breathing through a tube down her throat, with more tubes sucking the blood out of her neck and taking it to a big machine that cleaned it and sent it back to her neck and down to her heart. She was in a coma and I couldn't find her any more. That's why I was screaming my head off in the middle of nowhere.

The land I was standing on was in Colorado, in view of Pike's Peak. It was once healing land, where the original inhabitants of those vast, open spaces would gather to pray to their gods, asking for things to be made right. They would chant, and drum, and dance, knowing that some unseen Force would hear them. And here I was, in the age of computers, doing the same thing. Except mine was a bit less organized and not quite so reverent, I suspect. Mine tended more toward anger and shaking my fist up at God. I was violent and demanding of answers, resentful and desperate, longing and willing to bargain, terrified and alone. I think the ancient dwellers of this land were a bit more evolved than I was in my frantic grief.

When the echoes of my screams faded away all that was left was the blowing of the wind. Perhaps I will find my answers there.

In the years since this event I have been on a spiritual quest, looking for the answers to the big "WHY?". That journey has led me to become a grief and loss counselor. If this message has touched you, please share your experiences with me, either through comments here, or by emailing me if you don't want a public view. (See my profile for the address.)

1 comment:

cats in the window said...

the scream, the tearing of the heart, the bleeding of raw emotions. we know loss on our own.

My mother passed many years back and I still grieve but this has changed to missing more than anything.

enjoyed your photos on redbubble