Grief and The Ocean

Grief and The Ocean

Yasemin Isler

Dec 21, 2017

Like the waves of the ocean, waves of grief come and go.  Like water waves, they wash off the pebbles with a whoosh, whispering as they leave the shores of our hearts. To return back, yet again. Sometimes the return of the grief waves is a soft tap, other times a loud crash.

They rock our hearts in rhythm. We may be familiar with this swirling of waves coming and going from a long time ago. Or their presence may be intimately fresh from new experiences of loss and tenderness. Or, perhaps they may be our first introduction to this ocean of grief and the land of the heart.

Grief ocean, meet heart land. A united force of nature, resisted, pushed away, yet it surrounds us.

How are you in your grief journey and your grief today? Welling up? Dancing with it? Resisting it? Relaxing into it? Turning towards it just enough to know it’s there? Maybe all of the above?

What would happen if you pause and meet this grief, just enough to get to know its ebbs and flows? What happens if you open to it enough to sit with it, listen to it, hear it, feel it, then release it until the next time it flows in?

May you have ease and peace in the shores of love where the tender spots of the heart meet the waves of grief.

-       Yasemin Isler, December, 2017

A Fresh Moment

Wherever we go, we bring ourselves. 

Death Brings Us Closer, Maybe for a Brief Time

Through griefs over deaths of loved ones that I have experienced or observed, there seems to be a pattern. Death brings people closer.

Death Brings Us Closer, Maybe For a Brief Time

Through griefs over deaths of loved ones that I have experienced or observed, there seems to be a pattern. Death brings people closer. The days following the passing, up until and possibly immediately after the service, a very special bond is formed among the survivors. You may say that it is the strengthening of an existing bond. Possibly. Still, there is a uniqueness and different authenticity to this bond that it may deserve to be called its own. This is the time when people often remove or soften their barriers. They expose their vulnerabilities to life, to death. They speak from their purer authenticity. They allow pain to show and desire to support one another to surface.

Naturally, we grieve differently. Those who are hit the most with the death, the ones closest, are perhaps too numb to participate in this “connectedness” ritual of sorts. They could be brought in with the help and support of others, gently and slowly. This authentic connectedness can be healing. It may even be more healing if it could be allowed to be sustained for a longer period of time. Instead, often, people – usually the outlying survivors -get back their habitual fears and go back into their flight modes. Once again, they escape the reality of the certainty of death and the pain that it could bring.

Death brings the survivors closer together for a brief time. It then becomes a springboard for most to flee into their alternate realities. How wonderfully healing it could be if we could suspend ourselves longer in this connected state, authentic with one another, in total kindness and radical acceptance of our vulnerability!

Yasemin

On Father's Day

On Father’s Day

from the perspective of a grieving child

Yasemin Isler 

June 17, 2016

How to embody being, with equanimity, on a day when many eagerly celebrate? This pondering nudge reminds me of the way of impermanence, of expectations versus letting go, of hopes versus surrendering to what is.
My son is joyful today, as his natural state of being. He is focused on flying his paper airplanes. He is waiting to go row a boat with me and “bust some moves” on the Charles. I recall that my husband was the skilled rower. Now I am the only parent, being reminded by my seven year old, and that I “need to take him on the boat ride”.

My dad has crossed over a long time ago. I am not even able to relate to this day’s meaning as a daughter or remember him fully. I can only acknowledge with gratitude that he made it possible for me to come to exist in this life, as much as my mom did. I am entrenched in the experience of a wife and of a mother of a son who witnessed the passing of their family patriarch too soon. On this second commercialized June day to celebrate all dads, in our home without him we are to decide how to live this day. To follow traditions, to make new traditions, to escape from the significance of Father’s Day or to acknowledge what is and remember to offer gratitude, and to consider how we can be present to each day of our lives, however the days are laid out for us.

    Meaning and purpose of life evolves, 

    as we experience what unfolds in ours. 

    For each precious moment we behold, 

    may we be able to savor their gift in our hearts. 

The humility, in the face of life’s vast power over us and all that is beyond our control, is often staring us in the face even when we deny it. Some moments are more powerful than others, placing us in the gentle hands of not knowing, to surrender and respect. Other times, we are left to contemplate.

As for my Father’s Day poem from my son’s perspective, below, I felt the desire to acknowledge where he is with this life experience, as a young grieving child. The desire to honor it arose in me. I may be bold to think that I feel or think what my son feels and thinks some days. When I asked him about these thoughts, he said “Yeah, I think that sometimes.“

To my husband, I am grateful for co-creating a precious son. He reminds me of you, while I do my best not to tell him how often, so that he can have the joy of growing up to be himself.

 

On Fathers Day

From a Young Son to His Dad

Pure love could make me fly

Into your arms my dad

Feel your arms hold me tight

For an instant I feel so mad

Your life stolen from my dreams

Where normal included two parents

Where weekends meant ice creams

Bike rides, boat rides, lessons in science

I see your eyes smile at me

But that’s just a photo you see

I sense you shout your love to me

Over the threshold of life we carry

I whisper my love to you, quietly

Longing to feel your presence, fatherly,

My paper planes take hold of me

In my visions of you, I keep thee.

Through Esplanade bike rides 

Remote controlled boats on the Charles

Walks on sunny beaches

Home made toy car races

You helped me hold a power drill

Made paper planes my newfound skill

I witnessed your creativity shine

With windmills one day to be mine

Huge planes that take us to France

Train rides that go super fast

Laughter and meals with friends

Impromptu fun doing odds and ends 

Family get togethers so big

Where you were treated like king

Plans halted to travel by the sea

Or live somewhere called Montpellier

Train ride to visit you in another part

Of country, questions filling my mind

I gave you a get well balloon shaped like a heart

Confusion sadness hope intertwined

Waiting to receive you home healthy

Waking up one night to see you lastly

Then left with what happened to me

To you, to our family.

My mom and I will be fine

Souvenirs of life once upon a time 

We will soar on our side of life

While you soar, an angel in flight.

I have your dimpled smile

I too have a suave style 

You shared with me your brilliance

A joy of life and vivaciousness 

My mom keeps quiet 

as she watches me

She tiptoes around 

how much I resemble thee

My father you’ll always be

And I am your son forever truly.

Yasemin

June 17, 2016

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