The Dying of The Light

Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light….  Dylan Thomas

There is no skin. There is no sin. Everything is love. Empaths get that. Yet, the illusion is so wonderful, that despite knowing it is an illusion, the pain hits one like a sledgehammer.

Recently my bleeding heart had been doing better. “Reality” also known as plain unconsciousness didn’t affect me as much. I had connected with a group of like hearted and when life was emotionally tough—as it often is for people who feel, I had the luxury of owning up to feeling stupid and vulnerable and being received with empathy, rather than, ‘you should’.

It isn’t that life isn’t equally tough for people who portray indifference. Empaths have no energy to wear masks and they don’t bother with the effort required to not feel. An empath will be gentle when he or she says, ‘I feel awful (but its not your fault)’ and this creates a space of connection that’s profound and life changing. It’s a kind of bravery. Or cowardice. Depends on whether you find emotions yukky or beautiful or scary.

I’d been seeing the warning signs. Someone’s going to pass, the cards told me. Who? Fortunately, they don’t tell me that, because I really don’t want to know. I’d much rather inhabit unconsciousness, but isn’t possible. Yesterday, in the kitchen, my heart went into a deep and long palpitation. This was a clear sign, something is going to happen to someone I love. I said ‘dear god, help!.’

Sure enough, the next day the information was on facebook. Raw. Clear. Like a knife through the heart. The soul that passed was my friend’s younger sister. I remember her in pig tails with a perpetual curious smile that would light up even more to see her big sister’s friend. She was on facebook with me and I’d see her stuff with a grin of pure delight. This girl had turned out be a really smart person, she had became a banker and a hiker and a supporter of children’s education. Dear heart. No. I can never forget the white school uniform. That mischievous twinkle. My awe that my friend has younger sisters. She’d do this big sister thing and it was so cool.

Tears wouldn’t come. I’d sob but the sob is like a dry twig that’s trying to light up. I said ok, I can’t carry on as normal with this one. This one’s hit like a sword straight through the heart.

I ask myself, why did it hit me like this? Why am I grieving? I can’t even imagine what its like for this girls family. No I can. And my heart just hurts so bad that I can’t do a single thing about it. I can only love them. The pain was that I was helpless. We were all helpless. We, big sisters were helpless. One of us was far away and suffering and we could do nothing. Facebook makes one feel we are all together, all safe, all ok. She’ll post something soon. But it isn’t true.
When I post a sad post, my friends reach out. I didn’t always realize that my sadness affects someone. But it did—but that’s how human relationships are—we can’t be islands, we have to reach out. We have to share how bloody awful or how bloody good it is.

I just want to say to all living beings. I love you. When I see you sad, I am sad. When you are happy, I am happy. You matter. Don’t ever think you are alone. That’s the biggest illusion. And life makes one feel very helpless at moments like death.

I know it will take time to accept it. The memory of those pig tails and that white uniform makes me cry. The disconnection and distance from each other- classmates, schoolmates, friends who now live all over the world feels horrible.