You can take your teardrops and drop 'em in a teacup, take 'em down to the riverside, and throw 'em over the side, to be swept up by a current

Janelle called as the ramifications of Matt's pending departure sank in. She did her best to offer perspective and encouragement but under the glamour of low spirits, none of it rang true. I had just been born into a dark, unforgiving place. The Universe was piling on, adding insult to injury, and it wasn't fair.

After I got off the phone with Janelle, I knew I had to make a decision: give up or rise above. I chose the latter. I put on a Wayne Dyer talk I found on YouTube and listened in bed. It helped. The following morning I awoke to another day of rain and wind. My body let me know right away its opinion that I stay in bed and not venture out. I had work to do at the courthouse in Cambridge, so venture out I did, and as I walked block after block through the horizontal rain, I began to revert to my pre-Wayne Dyer state.

I finished my work in Cambridge and headed into work. The parking lot was full and there wasn't a spot to be found on the streets nearby. I ended up parking several streets away. More walking through the tempest. When I entered the office, I was chilled to the bone. Raw, bedraggled, broken. I should have been in bed.

I felt as if I was becoming more sick.I still had all of my Christmas shopping to do; I needed to be hale enough to do that. Again it seemed like the Universe was piling on. I couldn't catch a break. Alongside the chills and fever were thoughts of my father, ever-present, mocking. He was so close; his face and voice were vivid, ghostly portraits (Oh, to see him again....) A deep melancholy overtook me; I resided in a  fevered nightmare; a pure, unfiltered nightmare.

And then.....

I desperately grasped for something positive. In my mind appeared the words "nam myoho renge kyo", the Buddhist chant I had previously used in meditation. It gathered momentum like a train leaving a station and I clung to it. I seasoned the chant with the simple affirmation, "I want to feel good". I felt better almost immediately.

And then....

About a half hour later, grace descended upon my weakened, battered frame. My mother called and I went out to the lobby to talk with her. We shored up Christmas plans and spoke about a couple of things. I wasn't going through this alone, the call reminded me; I needed to be there for my mother and my sister. I felt nourished with a renewed sense of purpose.

And then.....

I got off the phone with my mother and went back to the office, nam myoho renge kyo on autopilot in my skull. A few minutes later, Tim walked in and said, "I can't believe it - look outside!" I did and saw that the sun was out. The sun was out! How could this be. Only minutes before, we were being battered with wind and rain. A glorious sight.

And then....

As I took in this new development, Marcy asked if I'd like to use some vacation days to cover the time I had missed. I didn't think I'd have enough, but she seemed to think I did, so I told her to please go ahead and cover as much time as was possible. She said, "Well, you've got 13 days available to you, so you can easily cover all the time you missed. And plus, Jeff wants to offer you bereavement pay". I had always thought I only had five vacation days; this was good news.

"Oh, and Jeff meant to explain to you why you have two checks this week. One is a year end bonus", she added. More good news. I felt a lightness I hadn't felt in....well, too long. I got up and went outside. I stood under the blue sky and tears of relief streamed down my face. It didn't escape me that I had come out the other side of a literal and metaphoric tempest. I had emerged an altered thing; mended, stronger, bewildered, and still thick with grief.

I'm still sick and I am still coping with my father's death, but I'm putting my spiritual training to use. I had employed it early on, but eschewed it when things became too grim too quickly. My dark night of the soul continues, I suppose, but when the sun came out that day accompanied by other positive news, I was able to regroup and see things clearly. I sought refuge in the Bhagavad Gita and gained comfort and strength from it.

The Beloved Lord said:

You have grieved for that which is not worthy of grief, 
and yet you speak words of profound knowledge.
The learned grieve
neither for those
who have passed on,
nor for those who have not departed

Never, truly,
have I not existed - 
nor you, nor these kings
who protect the people,
And never
shall any of us
ever cease to be,
now or forever more


I love you, dad.