A few days ago, Mustard and his pregnant wife Moon (nicknames) were in a terrible car accident. First they lost the baby. The trauma team at the hospital managed to keep Moon alive for a few days. A loving community gathered around the family with prayers and loving thoughts and food and money.
Moon died last night.
I’ve been told that everything happens for a reason. But what reason? Moon and her baby died because of trauma sustained in a car accident. That’s the reason. But meaning? What meaning could there be in a tragedy like this? What “reason” could possibly excuse the death of a prolific young artist so beloved by so many people, and the stillborn death of her child?
My mind wants meaning. My mind wants to know why. What karma led to this? What grander purpose? What universal plan? What god?
The mind cannot comprehend events like this. What the mind can comprehend is an edited version. The film is modified to fit your screen. The mind takes out the disturbing bits, adds in hope and meaning like mortar in the cracks, and presents it in such a way so it does not shatter the mind’s fair and reasonable world.
But there is grief here. Grief and pain. Grief, pain and so much love. Love for Moon. Love for her baby. Love for her husband and the family and the community fabric torn by this loss.
The heart feels it. The heart does not have an answer. There is no meaning here. No grander purpose, no fairness, no, nothing like that. Only grief, pain and so much love.
And the response is not to try and make sense of it, or make it better. We can’t make it better. We can’t pretend that it doesn’t hurt. But the heart and the community and the heart of the community responds with compassion, bringing this one candle of light into the darkness of grief and loss. Compassion does not die. It only shines brighter in the darkness.
This is not to say it’s okay now because we have love. This is not a reason. This is not something for the mind to grasp on to. The mind cannot own love. I have to let go of that.
I’m just trying to be here. To be here and allow compassion to flow through me, through the community and into the hearts of each one that needs it.
It’s just so overwhelming. Every day I’m faced with a tremendous need for healing in my world. Just today I got an email from a friend who has been diagnosed with cancer. I want her to be all better. I don’t want to live in a world of cancer and car accidents. I resist. I want to try and figure it out so that I can stop painful things from happening. I want to control my life so pain has no chance to creep in.
But no matter how hard my mind works to keep everything under control, sickness and death win out. And I don’t know what to do. I’ve had two years of training in the healing arts and I’m supposed to know what to do, and I’m supposed to do it. I’m supposed to do something for people that need healing. But so many times, it feels so inconsequential compared to the need. There isn’t much I can do most of the time.
All I can do is… not to do but to be. To be here now. To allow my heart to open up to my community and let compassion flow through it. And then, hopefully (beyond all hope), I will find something to do that comes out of the overflow of the heart.
I don’t know if this will make any difference, but I’ll do it anyway. I’m posting a link to a site where you can make donations to cover the family’s hospital bills. Moon had some very talented doctors looking after her, and they did everything they could to save her. Unfortunately, even though she is gone, a grieving family has some big bills to pay. I’m sure anything would be appreciated.
And that’s all I have to say for now.