Seeing Through the Darkness

“Grandma! Grandma!” I yelled, as I ran down the hallway to her bedroom.

“What is it little sweetie?” she replied, patting the side of the bed next to her then pulling back the covers.

“I just had a bad dream about a huge owl flying over me. I thought it was going to get me! She was so scary,” I explained.

“Did you know that owls are my favorite animals? I admire them because they represent magic, having a strong inner awareness, and using our intuition to see beyond our limitations. Every time I see an owl I ask it what message it’s bringing me from the spirit world.”

“What did the owl look like?”

“She had a white heart-shaped face, kind of like yours, and she was looking at me,” I described.

“That’s called a barn owl and they can see in the dark, only needing the help of the moon. You don’t have to be afraid of owls. They come to visit you as a sign to look within yourself and ask what you should know. What do you think the owl was trying to tell you?”

“That you’re my best friend, grandma,” I giggled.

“You’re my best friend too, little sweetie. I love you, ” she replied. She kissed me goodnight and I welcomed the comfort of the moment lulling me into a peaceful slumber beside her.

Finding Grief

Several years later, as an anxious 17-year-old, I went to visit my grandma at her new residence, a nursing home. I quietly walked into the room because I felt badly that I had not seen her in a year.

“Hello, Grandma.”

“Who are you?” Grandma replied.

“I…I…” I didn’t know how to respond to not being recognized, so I fearfully looked over at my mom for help.

“I know I know you, but I don’t know who you are,” Grandma exclaimed as she started to sob.

Grandma didn’t remember this, but we don’t cry in my family. You’re not supposed to cry anyways. Instead of crying due to the tornado of complicated emotions and shock that I instantly found myself in, I started choking and had to excuse myself from the room.

I never returned to her room after that experience. My grandma died a year after my visit.

Freezing Grief

In my family, once someone dies, the dead person immediately ceases to exist and you move on with your life. There may be a framed photo in a room that is barely used. The person may be mentioned years later in conversation. But only if the story is going to make everyone laugh. The grieving process is replaced with the freezing process.

Everyone upholds this silent agreement without question or reflection.

The shame of never returning to my best friend grandma was enough that I willingly participated.

Hiding Grief

We’ve all heard the overused expression that you cannot run from your problems, no matter how much you try. With time the problem appears in different ways: as an experience, as an illness, as a sign. They’re all asking for healing. And yet, I ignored them.

Overtime, my family rule prevailed. You may privately cry for a short bit, if you must–which I did. Then you must return the grief back to its hiding place in your heart. In your lungs. In your soul.

A decade after my grandma’s death, I decided that I wanted to spend some of my free time volunteering with the elderly residents in my community.

As I was about to complete the training, my group started to greet the residents. Then I started to greet the overwhelming emotions that strangled and froze me years before. The trauma of seeing my grandma, a living ghost of her former vibrant self, and the guilt of leaving, reappeared to haunt me.

I returned the grief back to its emotional safehold, precariously locked it there, and walked away from it once more. I walked away from the nursing home once more too.

Transforming Grief

Five years later, in my thirties now, I continuously and curiously ponder the philosophies of life and death, the meaning of life, and the connection to everyone in the universe. I had realized that many of the pursuits of my twenties were shallow endeavors instead of soul experiences.

I began to honor my grandma by embodying the spiritual qualities she cherished. It has been a cathartic experiment in connecting with my own intuition.

I realized that to free myself from my problems, I must feel the devastating emotions and find peace with my grandma’s death and all other traumatic happenings and smaller struggles.

I’m allowing myself to feel it all now. Every memory, every moment, everything. It’s surprisingly not as excruciating as I feared. I have the tools and the support now to manage this process as I transform the experiences into gratitude and love.

How do you know if you’re making progress when you’re doing something as obscure as healing your negative feelings and traumatic experiences? All I have to guide me is another feeling.

And I was feeling wonderful that warm summer night.

It was dusk and I took a shortcut through the park on my way home from dinner. The moon was gently glowing. Despite living in a large city, the air freshly smelled of flowers and felt optimistic and serene.

I sensed a pair of eyes observing me and cautiously glanced up the path. No one was in the park that I could detect.

I took another step and peered upward. My eyes connected with the black eyes of the familiar, heart-shaped face owl from my dream decades ago. But instead of fear, I felt peace as I recognized the owl this time.

“Hello, Grandma.”