People Tell Their Stories:
Death and Dying

The Anniversary of a Son's Death  Melody Beattie
 
On the second anniversary of her son, Shane's death.
 
I was still crying in private every day. And I had a case of the terrors I couldn't shake, no matter how much therapy I did, no matter how much of anything I did. The simplest acts, such as going to the gas station, overwhelmed me. More complicated events, such as speaking or attending a business meeting, sent me into a panic. I had to write out each word I intended to say for my speeches.
 
It was hard to trust life. I kept waiting for the rug to be pulled out from under me again. Nothing felt safe or secure.
 
I was amazed at how much my mental focus and concentration had been disturbed. Yet I was determined to overcome this, a determination I hadn't experienced for a long time.
 
One day I parked my car in front of a store that sold religious items. I settled on a rosary.... I didn't understand why I purchased the rosary. I'm not Catholic. But I was drawn to it. I learned the Hail Mary and began reciting it over and over, holding the rosary in my hand....
 
I began to remember and practice other values that had served me well in the past. Service. Gratitude. The simple act of taking responsibility for myself and my life, each day, no matter what blows I'd been dealt, no matter how unfair life seemed....
 
I began to use other tools, too. I had read that merely observing something meant interacting with it and that the simple act of observation changed it. I began the quiet act of watching myself....
 
I began to see that my emotions, like the sea, became colored by whatever storm was brewing. When the gale passed, the sun returned. I learned to wait for each storm to pass and trust that it would.
 
 
From The Lessons of Love: Rediscovering Our Passion for Life When It All Seems Too Hard to Take, by Melody Beattie, HarperSanFrancisco, a division of Harper Collins Publishers, San Francisco, 1994, pp. 186-188.

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