I’m not even sure if you could call what I was doing in the beginning “meditation” but I knew I needed to do something. In 2011 for reasons I couldn’t understand at the time, my son left my home and began living with his father full time. Even though it was the next town over and he would be close and we would “see each other” I couldn’t shake the feelings of losing a child.
The guilt, shame, horror and deep sorrow would reopen as a deep wound every time he would come visit and leave again. This gut wrenching tragedy was controlling my every thought.
What did I do wrong?
What could I have done differently?
Would I ever get him back?
My thoughts soon took over my physical body, as it was eating away at me on the inside. Doctors, tests, medications and so on weren’t going to heal my broken heart.
These moments are the call to action.
I knew that I had to do something to begin to trust that this was meant to be and I had to surrender to it, accept it, and learn to live again.
Every morning and night I would close my eyes and imagine that I could float up to the clouds.
This became my sacred space.
The more I visited my space the more familiar it became to me. It had a couch where I could sit and hug my son, a space where we could meet, and there was nothing that could come between us. No matter where we were on earth we could always be together in this sacred space.
I never told anyone what I was doing and after a few months of this new practice, it was Mother’s Day. The day to honor myself as a mother but how could I? The shame of losing a child was still an open wound for me. My son had visited for the day and gave me a card that he had made. On the inside he wrote:
Will I meditate for the rest of my life? Yes, I will meditate for the rest of my life.
Because no matter what is happening we can always create a place in our heart, or in the clouds, or in the water where everything will be as you imagine it to be.