Congratulations… Happy Anniversary to Bellésprit Magazine! This month marks Bellésprit Magazine’s one year anniversary! Congratulations and high fives to all who’ve been involved in bringing the magazine from a vague idea to a grounded manifestation in living color and beauty.  It makes my heart sing to be part of the community at Bellésprit; a community of gifted, caring and loving writers and loyal readers who share with their circles to spread the word and bring comfort, tips and joy to others. I honor Belle Salisbury, Bellésprit Magazine’s owner, creator and editor, for her vision, dedication, support, and the hours of effort devoted to each spirit-fueled issue. A labor of love inspired by forces beyond the ordinary. Belle is a leader, mentor and model of love in action. Namaste, Belle. The heart-centered quality of the content brings ah hah’s, tears, comfort, information, helpful tips, resources, laughter, introspection, and joy to all who sit with a cup of tea to take a break and feed their soul by communing with the magazine. The evolution continues; the number of columnists and list of Diamond Psychics and Healers grows each month, ongoing technological changes allow for behind the scenes tweaks and advances so the message can be more widely shared around the globe and readership increases exponentially. I can’t even imagine what 2013 will mean for Bellésprit and the community. With the long awaited arrival of high frequency and light’s arrival on the planet in December, the new era of loving and compassionate Oneness is fully available to us but we’re still transitioning (at least in our egoic minds) from the old paradigm information age to the new conscious paradigm. This community’s launch in 2012 was so perfectly timed to assist in the preparation for the shift; no coincidence… just synchronicity and a passionate, purpose-driven venture building momentum through inspired love, building substance until it rolled forward with a momentum beyond doing and tasking, on an unstoppable wave of Being. Bellésprit Magazine now has a life energy of its own… it is alive, vibrant and spirit breathes it. I am in awe of the power of that force. It brings me to my knees and I weep with a sense of joy beyond the rational.

Heartbreak

In December, while preparing this article for publication, the news of the violent deaths of 28 in the town of Newtown at Sandy Hook Elementary School shocked, saddened and angered all of us. Eight adults, many trying to keep the children safe, and twenty children, so young and innocent, were taken from the community in the sudden and unexpected shooting rampage. The grief of those directly affected by loss, so close to what was to have been a happy and holy time, cannot be fully expressed in words, and the whole situation is beyond comprehension or understanding. There were gifts wrapped and waiting for those wee ones to open with laughter and surprised delight, there were new bikes hidden in neighbor’s garages with big bows on them, there were baking supplies ready to make the special cookies together, there were Advent calendars partially used, there were parties and gatherings on the schedule for those children to attend and parents juggling their time to make sure they could get their child where they needed to be… and then there were broken hearts and empty chairs at the table. That community came together in ways its members never expected to have to come together, and they will never forget. The impact of the tragedy will live on for years to come. The ugliness of the violence is in stark contrast to the compassion and outpouring of assistance as people came together to do whatever they could to help each other through the confusion, madness and pain. Violent school shootings aren’t new but they are rare and, when they happen, the shock, outrage and sorrow is intense. The loss is unimaginable and we can feel powerless to help. Know that prayers do help, even from a distance. For me, the heartache brings up thoughts and many questions. In the United States, there are approximately 100,000 shootings each year and 30,000 gun-related deaths annually, according to the special Dateline episode about the horror in Newtown. Twenty-eight deaths on December 14, in Newtown… 29,972 others to mourn in 2012? The shooter was a 20-year-old man, a boy really. What dark and distorted thoughts and compulsions brought him to the point where he felt compelled to do what he did? To judge him as evil can make our vengeful bone feel better but I refuse to believe that he was born evil or that he never loved. Despite that, he planned it, he envisioned it, he prepared for it, he gathered his tools together to do it, and he did it. Will we ever really know what drove him to take so many other lives, and such young lives, as well as his own? The shock over the mass shooting of wee ones overrode the fact that this man murdered his own mother, a teacher at the school. He killed his mother in the home they shared but somehow her violent death at his hands was left as a sort of footnote to the worst. As a mother, and a daughter of my mother, I experience that as intensely horrifying and heart wrenching as the murders at the school. This took me back to 9/11; that moment when the news broke and the world stood still, hearts connected in shock and grief, disbelief, compassion, and the desire to come together to help. The tragedy also brought up other memories of past trauma and sadness, and I’m alone in that. Anyone who has lost a loved one near the date of a holiday or special date, such as a birthday or anniversary, may have been triggered or poked by the news. I wrote this article on the anniversary of my father’s sudden death at the young age of 39. He died, in an instant, in a car accident, on December 15th, when I was a teen. We buried him on December 18th, forty years ago, and the loss changed me and my family forever… in that instant, that moment, in that split millisecond. I remember how the usual excitement of Christmas time turned to confusion and pain. Everything felt surreal and I’d wake up hoping that the whole thing was just a mistake and Dad was going to walk in the door at any moment. I remember going back to high school after the Christmas holidays and observing others who acted as if life was the same as ever, when for me it was absolutely not at all what it had been. I remember, in drama class, during some improvising for fun, my turn arrived and a classmate directed me to act as if the phone just rang and I learned that a relative had just died. I stood frozen and unable to speak. My teacher stepped in to “save me” from that most unexpected and painful scenario. I remember concerned adults at the visitation telling me I needed to see him in the casket or I’d not have closure, and the unexpressed rage I felt at being forced to see him that way. I wanted to remember him as the animated spirit in the physical that he was, with his unusual gait and the way he told the funniest stories you could ever hear. My way of rebelling at that at the time, since I couldn’t express my feelings in words, was to attempt to not focus my eyes in that direction. I also remember thinking that I wouldn’t live to be any older than he was when he died at 38. I did. I’ve returned to the cemetery and have been touched by unexpected experiences there. At my grandfather’s service, I saw a pair of workmen’s gloves sitting on top of my father’s headstone and a shovel leaning against it. For some reason, that just cracked me up and I burst into laughter at the sight. At another burial service, decades after my father’s death and when in my late forties, I turned to leave the cemetery, saw his headstone and was shocked to find myself falling to my knees, touching the engraving and just wailing, “Daddy, my daddy, it’s my daddy.”, amidst a torrent of tears. A part of me will always be the little girl who wants her Daddy.

Hope

I know that time can heal a broken heart but the void left by the loss of a loved one remains. I also know that, as a mother, the thought of losing a child, at any age, is unimaginable and incomprehensible. I don’t wish that pain on anyone and yet, people lose their children every day and carry on through (and beyond) the nightmare, somehow. I do not know how. I know that we can reach a point where we can remember and share the good memories to honor our loved one. I know that the unexpected triggers that bring up tears or pain lessen with time. I know that nothing can kill a soul but we most certainly miss that animated body in the physical – the one that could talk to us and give us a hug. On Christmas Eve, as is my tradition, I set a place for my father at the table and danced with the angels and with my Dad in spirit. He is always with me and I do feel his loving presence. Laughter or tears… he lives on in my life.

Helping & Healing

When tragedy and loss strikes, there is an immediate flurry of support and activity but keep in mind that those directly affected by loss are most often in shock for a time. A death in a family brings visitors, gifts of food, cards, hugs, and a great outpouring of care but then… silence. People often don’t know what to say to another who is grieving or think that bringing up the subject would be too painful to speak of, as if it isn’t already constantly on the minds and in the hearts of those left behind. You can give so much if you’re there for someone after all the details and ceremonies are complete. Bringing a special dish, coffee and a visit, a thoughtful card or note, an invitation to a meal or event, a shoulder to lean on… those have great meaning to those whose lives have been altered forever by grief and loss. It’s easy to say, “How are you doing with it all?” or “Can I drive you to (fill in the blank)?” or “Can I pick up your children after Scouts for you?” or “Can I drop by for coffee?” The most healing thing you can do is to open space for the grieving one to talk about it, without giving advice or opinions. Just listen and remember that silence is also healing. Don’t jump in to try to make the other person feel better or to try to fix anything (you really can’t anyway). Let the silence be a bond between you, and a healing space. Just be you and share you, and that’s enough. Anniversaries of celebrations or of loss and tragedy can be honored and blessed, memories can be shared, tears and laughter can flow, and healing can happen through conversation, connection and shared silence. I honor and embrace all of you… who love, who have lost and who share all of who you really are… no matter what.]]>