Living the Paradox

 Dear Son,

Here we are again, in September, revisiting that time you left our human race to move on to a gentler pace. This year the cracks in my heart both smile and ache more deeply as I find myself picturing our early times together.  So, it just feels better to talk directly to you . . .  thanking you for helping me understand the grace of a paradox. Over the years, your gift has guided me to live more gently and wisely without you here.

A paradox points out a truism, even as its elements contradict each other. Neils Bohr, Nobel Prize-winning physicist, (a science guy you would probably love reading), stated that though the opposite of a correct statement is a false one, the opposite of a profound truth may actually be another profound truth. Though a paradox suggests that contradictory ideas can both be true, it doesn’t promise they’ll exist at the same time. Welcome to the paradox gap – a transformative space between reality and possibility.

Matt, I picture two permeable structures, facing each other, a gap between them, and each holding a deep truth. For years, my familiar place was grasping the form stating that your death promises pain, guilt, and irreconcilable loss throughout my life. Paradox thinking asked that I believe another structure, just across that gap, holds the message that profound loss is a merciful teacher promising grace-filled peace and wisdom. And, if I stepped into that gap where both truths rested, a larger and more light-filled life waited.

Though I’d love to say I had visions of brilliantly-lit signs directing me to “Turn here for the Gap” or “This way to Wholeness”, we both know I didn’t. What I can say is that only after I stopped relentlessly clinging to my old truth of loss and suffering was I able to dream of you. And there you were, my grown son, smiling and finally standing without pain. It was that gracious dream that opened my heart to the possibility of something more than death and pain. You and I were not finished, but beginning anew.

In time, wholeness became a very real goal for my own healing. “Just imagine,” I’d say to myself, “a peace-filled place of self-acceptance, love and hope . . . even for me.” Son, I know you understand that it took me time to surrender my hold on that old truth, accept my messy brokenness, and finally let grace meet me exactly where I stood, because as I’ve finally learned, that’s how grace actually works.

And, here we are again. When I visit you tomorrow the love I send out to you will be wrapped in peaceful acceptance, as I embrace both my ongoing grief and its partner, healing grace. I’m grateful; my life is more full and enriched because I live within this paradox.

Always with love,

Mom