There is No Holy Uplift

When someone leaves this world in this way, it carries a different weight. A sorrowful chord that strikes with resonance across all loss, yes.

This, followed by a level of wonder both indescribable and haunting.

A person becomes a ghost to us; while we are then left behind - empty, hollow, most ghostly as well - in the wake of things.

So often, the moments when loved ones die, we are offered a sort of jolt to “wake” us up. A new recognition to be grateful for each day. The sweet, short life embraced more fully when another’s life falls away, near to us.

But not when it’s death by suicide.

There is no holy uplift.

Pinned to the floor by the weight of our bones, we find ourselves carrying something dense and heavy. The mind spinning with questions, desperate to sort the mess. But there is no use.

If you have felt this way, I am with you. We are not alone in this.

And still, we shall each have our own experience.

And there will forever be so much I will never understand. Only time will bring ease. And a rush of fire to never again take life for granted is replaced by the experience of deep confusion, pain and wonder.

The kind of wonder that can keep one from sleeping.

What could I have done? Any of us? What could we have done?

It may be that there is nothing any of us could have done…

Recently, our beloved community lost a young, shining light of a human in such a way.

One day she was taking care of animals and the next she was gone.

My mind knows there’s no sense to make of this. I simply offer, here, my truth. Confusion, sadness and self searching become me. And I imagine some of us are sharing this same experience.

She truly was a soul who “always seemed so happy”…

I wrote a poem. It’s below. The only way I know how to ask myself the questions that haunt me through the night. The page can hold them. I hope they hold you. Or anyone who needs.

My heart is here for anyone who needs. Reach out. And to each other as well.

Love,

Adge

a poem for josie
what couldn’t we see?
hedges grown
a neighbors view
blocked
by the roses
what didn’t we ask?
the quiet moments
stretching
begging for words
to be set free
did this set you free?
were the seams
too tight
or was it fear of the
unraveling threads?
no answers
are left floating
in the wake
of such
disaster
only half moments
devoid of
closure
or a song that lost
its chorus
may your soul
be sung to sleep
with the
softest of starshine
your nightlight
and may your
smile
be drawn among
the constellations
our gaze lifted
for those left behind
are searching
for a way
through
or a way back
but we already know
a return
would only unleash
all the more
questions
suffering lives
inside uncertainty
and the very gripping
to all
that once was
may our palms open
as we tell your
stories
a radiating essence
of you
for the truth
is in the way
you made
us feel so very
alive
an electric feel
spread
from long hair
and a bouyant
stride
we shall
carry forth
in this way
best
we can
for memory exists
and we are made
from all the
stardust
that ever was
energy dancing
a mingling of
vibration
bound to collect
again
the sound of
souls
remembered
a most wondrous
rhythm to hold
and perhaps a
shared solace
found
in knowing you
are so very loved
~ adge marz lindsey

Thank you for being here. Love to you.

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