Crow’s Feet
Published in

Crow’s Feet

Morning/Mourning Tears

Grief and mourning come in waves

Photo by Pierre Bamin on Unsplash

I woke up with tears this morning. They come when they like. I have learned to simply be with them. And learn from them. And talk with them.

I just got back from a lovely week in Oregon. I traveled with a friend whose daughter lives up there. This sweet friend usually has full time grandmother duties when she visits Oregon. She loves her two grandsons, but also never really has had the time to see this beautiful state. This time she played tourist with me.

Lush green breathtaking views greeted us everywhere. Oregon gets rain, so waterfalls are abundant. Living in California, rain has become more and more of a precious and rare gift.

So the voices in my head tell me that I should feel nothing but happy after a lovely time away. They criticize and judge me for my sadness. I talk with those voices as well, continually.

We feel what we feel.

Yes, I had a lovely time.

And I am sad this morning.

Both are true. Both these feelings and experiences can and do co-exist.

I am sad and mourning my youth. Traveling and noticing that I feel so much more invisible than I used to. Two older women on an adventure, but older women. Looked at differently, if looked at all. There can be advantages to this, and there is also a sense of loss.

Traveling and feeling the sand in the hourglass moving ever more quickly. How many more trips might I have left in me? How many more adventures? Getting ready for a trip seems to take more energy these days. Negotiating a new place seems to bring a bit more anxiety. The self-confidence of my youth seems to have decreased.

I think about where I want to spend whatever time that I have left. Oregon has called to me for quite some time. Yet I wonder if I have the energy to move, with all that this involves, at my age and stage of life. To start over again somewhere new.

This is such a bittersweet time of life.

I appreciate the bitter as well as the sweet. It is all important. It is all part of the experience of life. It all adds richness and depth.

I am grateful for it all. Even the tears. I couldn’t have tears if I wasn’t still so very much alive and still didn’t have the capacity to feel. What a gift that is, to feel. All of it, all part of this human journey that we are on.

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Jo Saia

Jo Saia

Writer and artist exploring the many gifts of aging, both light and dark.