The terrible beautiful middle
New neighbors, down payments + grandfathers
Sometimes I start one of these pieces and I have a general sense of where it will land. This one? Not a clue.
I only know there’s something in my world I must name and express so I can feel more myself. Less numb. More alive.
And honestly, isn’t that why so many create in the first place? We’re trying to feel something that’s integral to what it means to be human. The thing inside longs to be known on the outside, even if just by us.
Tomorrow marks a year and a half since my brother passed away.
We are moving into a beautiful new home tomorrow.
My grandfather passed away last week.
My brother’s money is the only way we can afford to buy a home right now.
Our new home is six houses down from my sister.
Yes, I feel the whiplash too.
The only thing in life I know to be forever true is that death seems to lead to life. They’re stuck in a loop. Like some annoying codependent relationship, they can’t seem to get rid of each other.
Energy, humans, situations, relationships, organizations, ideas, creation. All of it. They near an end and we try to hang on as long as we can. We extend our suffering by living in denial that something is actually over. It hurts too much.
Shoutout to our nervous systems that do this for us when we go into shock. Sometimes it is too much and we ever so slowly wake up to new realities and learn how to release and begin again.
When we finally reach a moment of acceptance that this person is actually gone, the relationship is over, the kid left for college or kindergarten, the job is over, or that idea really won’t work, we move into this liminal space that’s so freaking uncomfortable.
A friend described it this week as “a sense of being both untethered/homeless and also fully grounded.”
You might have other choice words for how that terrible middle space feels. But regardless of how you describe it, there’s a sense that we’re learning to accept what actually happened but we don’t know what’s next. That uncertainty? Most humans despise it. I do.
And yet, I find (over and over and over) that’s where so much growth happens. Where we come face to face with our weakness, our humanity, our inability to control things, our longings, and the present moment we can no longer numb or hide from.
No wonder we delay and deny all kinds of deaths in our life. Who wants to willingly travel into that super weird painful middle space?
Funny you should ask.
The people who travel there (willingly or unwillingly) get to see the breath-stealing beauty of the new thing. They breathe their way through the loss, the discomfort, the challenge. They learn to navigate the swirl of emotions as life sorts itself into a new shape. They set down parts of themselves that are so damn tired. They gently release the parts that they outgrow. And they’re left with
.
.
.
space.
.
.
.
.
Space to listen.
Space to wonder.
Space to love.
Space to be curious.
Space to witness the raw sacred swirling of new beginnings.
New possibilities.
New life.
And that space? Oh, Lord. Love can do something with that kind of space.
Every freaking time.
Back to this odd dance with my brother, my grandfather, and my sister.
Life and death are caught up in this part of my story in beautiful ways.
Today is Thursday. Later this morning, I’ll sit on a couch at my sister’s home and watch my grandfather’s memorial service with her and my mom. We’ll smile and cry and tell stories. We’ll feel the love and gratitude for how this human’s been in the fabric of every part of our lives. He was 92 years old and lived an incredible life.
This afternoon, I’ll get the keys to our new home and walk in the door and knowing me, I will weep from the beauty of all that’s unfolding.
The last 3-4 years have been tough. To think that we get to begin again in a space my brother helped provide that’s close enough to my sister that our kids can call each other on walkie talkie’s is almost too beautiful to think about.
So I will just feel it.
And maybe that’s the whole point. For us to simply place ourselves in the terrible beautiful middle of death and life. Trusting Love knows what it’s doing. Trusting ourselves enough to let it unfold.
Trusting death to do what death does.
Trusting life to do what life does.
Realizing that when we stop trying to control the whole thing, we get to bear witness to the staggering beauty of it all.
Grace,
Jenny
Grandpa, thank you for everything. You were the best. Proud to be part of your legacy in this world. It breaks my heart in the best way that you could give Jeremy a hug for us.
Brother, I’m angry because I want your presence far more than a down payment. But since I can’t get that, I’m trying to make peace with how much you would have loved this new chapter with us. We’re making space for you in this place and that feels good.
Sister, here we go! ;) People ask us how this is going to go. We have no idea. But we trust our relationship enough to make the leap. Love you!
Love knows how to fill that kind of space... Beautiful. Thanks, Jenny, for the reminder.
Beautiful words. Soul stretching.