Our perceptions determine outcomes, as real events aren’t really real. Instead they are our subjective thoughts and attitudes constructed to make sense of it all. Our memory of these events dictates how we interpret and respond to our environment. The beauty of our minds is that we have a choice on how to view what we see: we can look at our hard times as irritating and bad or we can view them as valuable and necessary. Take the making of a pearl for example. Oysters, like Alchemists, transform ordinary objects into precious things to feast our eyes upon. If not for the pain and discomfort the oysters must endure caused by the irritating sands festering within, this precious jewel would not exist. If we viewed our troubling experiences from this vantage point, we could move forward freely and without reservation, as our pain does not have to define us but rather it can refine us. When we allow ourselves the opportunity to embrace and learn from the lessons presented to us, we can perceive our circumstances differently. The universe whether it be God or another higher power offers opportunities to experience what is necessary to find our authentic purpose. Otherwise, we’re lost with no direction or intent. April 19th marks two years since my son’s tragic passing. The insurmountable pain has to mean something—it has a purpose—but what?
Although I haven’t quite grasped the lesson, I tell myself I must trust and have faith. I have to patiently look for the signs, which give me direction and permission to move forward safely. I have endured tremendous pain over my lifetime but this loss has by far been my greatest. What I know is my past has given me the ability to help others through difficult times and this time probably isn’t any different. Everything happens the way it’s supposed to and although I’m still confused I find comfort in my conviction and trust my experience is meant to serve a greater purpose other than myself. My goal is to celebrate my son’s life rather than mourn his death, as his life is a gift. Every part of who I am is based on loving him and because love doesn’t die, I must find the perseverance to continue honoring who we both are together.
Originally, I wrote a memoir entitled, “Sparrows in a Hurricane” to celebrate our surviving horrific tragedies. We had a happy ending. The brevity of time together should not be my focus but rather embracing the love that I feel for the opportunity and privilege to raise my son.
Rest in Peace Bubby
