LOOKING THROUGH THE MIRROR OF GRIEF

Look through a mirror. How is that even possible? 

The first time I saw myself weeping I was appalled. My face had changed so much--not in any good way. There were blackish purple brackets under each eye. My nose, dripping, was bright red and shiny. My mouth drooped and I decided right then and there that the best way for me to cry was alone. If the situation was impossible to avoid and I found myself shattered in tears while in the company of others, I would need to use my hand to just cover my mouth. 

But that course of events was discerned and planned from merely looking into a mirror, not through it. 

I found that the really scary grief can hide within a mirror and sometimes completely beyond its reflection. 

When your loved one first passes and you realize just how alone you truly are, there definitely is a sense of fear closely allied to questions of this nature:

• Can I make it on my own?
• Can I survive financially by myself?
• Can I live well and in a healthy manner (exercise, diet) without my loved one's support?
• Will I perish from loneliness? Maybe I will just wither and wish I had died?

And on and on. A mirror reflects input. Believe me, what I input into that mirror-of-existence was nothing positive. I saw a woman who used to be strong but now was a quivering mess. You know how when hair isn't washed frequently enough it looks lank? My entire visage looked lank. A lank face that was swiftly becoming a stranger to me. 

Previously, the mirror was simply a reflection of someone who used to pass her days oblivious to the sad side of life's coin. I noticed a female who smiled and succeeded. Often I saw both of us in that mirror--my husband and myself. He would be grinning and putting his face over my shoulder so our heads were side by side. 

"Side by side". It's almost a theme song for our happy, peaceful, daily existence. And now, for good reasons, I avoided looking at the mirror. I avoided looking into the mirror. I definitely avoided lookingthrough the mirror to its other side where mind-numbing darkness could develop.

So the days passed mostly in tears and I began a deliberate journey of self-reflection to avoid seeing my actual mirrored reflection. I'm not here to give anyone advice on how YOU should proceed in your sad journey. Everyone grieves to their own song. To their own beat. At their own pace. But this is what I decided to face and to conquer: looking through the mirror into a new life where there was no more side by side. 

I embarked on a learning discovery. I learned about angelology and the spirit world. I reviewed many of the tenets of organized religions in my country, especially traditions concerning death and the afterlife. I have dabbled in metaphysics and found it to be enjoyable and profitable. So much to learn. In learning about the Law of Attraction, it became clear to me that there was much, indeed, of a positive nature still to be revealed within the mirror. And, basically, everything on the other side of that mirror is more positive than words could ever express. Therefore, if I wanted to avoid "going down the wrong path" (for me that meant being pulled into the vortex of endless tears and sadness during my grief) I had better start practicing the vibrations/positive energy/visualizing and feeling emotions that are associated with happiness not sadness. 

Do you think I'm being too hard on myself by denying myself the right to cry or be lonely? The right to rail against a cruel Fate who snatched my love in the middle of a winter's eve? I used to agree with you. But time--ever meaningless for me--just hung there, not moving. I had to step around time. There was a place for tears and I had been to that place. There was a place for fearfulness and I had gone there, too. But, fortified with the Law of Attraction to bolster me, I started to consciously disarm my negative thoughts. I deliberately exchanged dark thoughts for bright ones. In my case, I call upon Archangel Michael and my late husband who is now my angel-spirit. I have developed personal mantras that have nothing to do with yoga or Eastern religions. One of mine is, "What's the best that can happen?" When I follow through with positive thoughts after asking myself that question, I always feel better. For me, it's a great question to alleviate anxiety. 

Becoming more and more positively attuned within our natural universe is an ongoing challenge. Now when I look through that same mirror I can see a beautiful and light-filled existence on the other side.