A Smiling Young Widow

Heart break, of course, goes hand-in-hand with loss. I joined an online yoga for grief support class, and one week focused on the heart. We were invited to consider the difference between a heart that breaks apart and a heart that breaks wide open. A heart that breaks open feels emotions intensely, offers room for compassion, and has the capacity to let bits of light filter in.

I’ve dabbled in yoga for quite a few years. These yoga for grief classes were the first time I ever truly understood the meaning behind heart opening poses and the intense connection to emotion. Who knew they are not just great for stretching across the front body?! I guess that was an “ahh my heart is broken open” learning moment.

The yoga for grief class offered pre-recorded sessions to follow on my own time, which offered a safe place in my early days. Going to regular yoga classes felt so off, and still sometimes does. I have no desire to be in a fast moving yoga class, and even now I will sometimes modify the poses or what I participate in when I do go. Everything hits different. My lovely widow friend and I went to a yoga class together, and afterwards we were debriefing on the closing gratitude practice. It started with “Think of something you’re grateful for.” My inner dialogue was like “Ok yup, ok I can do this. Push away all the thoughts around missing Tom that come anytime I lay still. I’ll just think of something good that happened today.” Well then the teacher goes onto say we should list FIVE things we are grateful for. Our widow-debrief after was full of laughter, like seriously girl?! Five?! We laughed that other people would think we’re crazy, they wouldn’t get it. Of course I do still have so much to be grateful for, and certainly have more than five wonderful things in my life, yet the huge loss looms over everything. Gratitude does not take the place of grief.

When I first learnt of the idea of a heart broken open, I was like oh this makes so much sense. This is the goal. It is a beautiful sentiment. It explained so much already. Like why I could find the capacity to still help others in small ways while dealing with immense grief. Why I could connect with some people in such different ways. Why I felt tears in my eyes so often, for happy moments and actually pretty insignificant little moments of people just doing nice things. Why I felt for other people experiencing losses in such a deep way (I’ve always been a pretty empathetic person, but now I hear of another person dying young and I am absolutely gutted for their family and the journey they are being forced to go on).

Then I’d flip-out on someone, or I’d yell at little Franklin. My mind would be wracked with guilt about something I should’ve would’ve done differently for Tom. I’d lose it in traffic (road rage is certainly where my broken open emotions can bubble over… and not necessarily in the Tom-approved way of giving people the thumbs down if their driving is disappointing!) So yeah, then I had to learn that the beautiful sentiment behind a heart broken open actually means that all emotions are a part of this. I was talking with a counsellor, working to acknowledge some of the less desirable feelings that were lingering below the surface with my grief. This painting hangs above our bed and happened to be my backdrop the day of our video appointment. We talked about how all emotions need their time to be felt. And that’s a beautiful thing. Just like all the different colours of the water in this painting. It has become a reminder for me to do the work of allowing all emotions to be felt and try to move away from labelling them as good or bad. (I so wish I could come through the door to see Frank and Tom snuggled in here under the painting again. They were always such cute lazy butts together on weekends!)

A reminder to allow this process to happen popped up again in one of my daily meditations this week. To let my heart be broken open. To feel the darkness and be open to the light coming through.