Feeling Our Way Through the Dark

I've seen dark times before. Dark times in my career, where I said something to make myself look good when I should have just been listening. Dark times in my health or my children's health or my parents' health, where no one knew what the outcome would be. Dark times in my family, losing a brother. Dark times as a mother, where I thought the kids were making the wrong choices or choosing the wrong friends, and dark times in my marriage, where the situation didn't seem to have a solution. But this time is different. This time feels really dark! And there is no power company coming to turn the lights back on. And it's not just dark in our own homes, it's dark everywhere, some places more than others. We can't just find our way through this dark. We are feeling so much! We have to feel our way through the dark.

And so I am reaching for anything. I claw my way along, grabbing onto the next table-edge to pull myself up, just long enough to catch my breath before I have to move on to the next thing that needs doing.  I reach for the familiar, like talking to a friend. I reach for the natural, like digging in the dirt. I reach for the comfortable, like a nap or a soft blanket. I feel around and sometimes what I feel is an empty chair. Not a chair for me, but for one of my children. Gone. We took two kids to college this month and the emptiness is deeply heartfelt. We take Annie next week. Maybe. Gone are the days when college move-in was a bittersweet mix of emotions with a loud party soundtrack of "Wild One" playing in the courtyard, whose music only the college kids hear, while the parents are too busy trying to look calm, collected, and still cool, trying not to be too overbearing, or worse, crying. This time was just quiet and gloomy, even with the loud music. Dark. "See you... soon?" we said, not sure if it would be a happy reunion or an emergency pick-up. That's scary. How do you feel your way through that dark? Matt was determined not to say Good-bye. He played with the dog for a long while before we left home, petting his head, shaking his paw, roughing his collar. Then he turned to me and said, "I'm not saying good-bye to Cody." Yeah? Then what was that all about? "I don't like goodbyes," he said. This oughta be good, I thought. Feeling his way through the dark. College is different these days. There was no huge send-off from family and friends like in the past. Because of staggered times for move-in, we didn't get to meet his roommate or see his roommates' family like we did at other move-ins. We kind of left him in limbo, with enough peanut butter and crackers to get him through a few meals, should he be too anxious to go to the cafeteria alone. Because we were all wearing masks, we could only see each other's eyes - and they were filled with tears. Feeling our way through the dark. And later we found out that he really did eat peanut butter for dinner that night. 

Now our college senior is in online classes because of Covid outbreaks. He had already had to quarantine when he first got out to school. He was sincerely sad to miss his last first day of school. A mix of senior emotions. How do you feel your way through that? I don't know. 

I don't mean not to be hopeful. I know I should be telling myself, Hope is not lost. All shall be well. But right now, it's just not doing it for me. I just have to feel. I have to feel the darkness and not shirk away from it. I have to feel the emptiness and not be afraid to cry. The tears are right there all the time. One wrong move and I'll be a hot mess. I have to feel the fear and be afraid. And it doesn't have to be okay. It's not okay! Feeling our way through the dark. 

According to the Enneagram (I'm hooked on these podcasts and books and more ...) there are three primary ways of facing the world: through the head, through the heart, and through the gut. The head - I don't have enough facts or knowledge - no one seems to. The gut - I don't have enough instincts to let me know what's right or wrong except by listening to experts and scientists, real scientists. What I do have is my heart, my feelings, and even though they might be dark feelings, they will help me make my way through. Right now, in the dark, my heart is working hard. I feel it like palpitations. 

So I feel my way through the dark, reaching for anything. One tiny candle at a time. One thing I can reach for is Love. Feelings of love. Memories of love. Messages of love. Places of love. Pictures of love. The past summers, past trips, past parties and graduations. That helps. Memories of starting our family, memories of when the kids started school in the past. Matt's first friend and his message of Love: "Dreer Matt, You ar so cool. Luv, Pierre." My little boy, now a senior, walking up the steps to pre-K, his first first day of school, and never looking back! He must have been scared. He must have felt in the dark, not knowing what was coming. But he had lots of love from us, from his teachers, and faith that school was a safe and happy place. Each of these memories sheds a little bit of light in the dark, a single candle. The feelings aren't so big and heavy. I can catch my breath again.

In our current culture, we can reach for Love too, even when it feels easier to hate. Trust me, I'm working on that. We can feel that Love in the messages of heroes who faced adversity and darkness like we, or at least I, will never know. While I say I have had dark times, they are not the epic dark times like a world war, or the Great Depression, or the extreme trauma of racism. I don't dare to compare my pain with the heroes who endured all that and more. Like veterans and gold star parents. Like our ancestors. Like immigrants and refugees. Like John Lewis and Martin Luther King. Like Barack Obama. Like Michelle Obama. Like Kamala Harris. Like Breonna Taylor and George Floyd. They are the stars in this darkness. And they always gave us and continue to give us messages of Love in spite of the darkness, in spite of all the adversity they faced. And we can share that Love with others, with every single one.

I can't see clearly yet. The lights are off and aren't coming back on anytime soon. But we can feel our way along and keep going. Keep loving. Feeling a little love along the way. 

“Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.” - Martin Luther King Jr.

*Images are from the site Bright Drops.