Reinventing myself personal growth program
Guided Meditation C.D.s
Now available in Paperback
Creative Visualization guided meditation techniques
How to Meditate, what is a healing meditation like
Weight Loss and  Emotional eating
Fear of abandonment
Stress reduction
Vital Energy oxygen therapy and breathing
Soul Mates and self love
arthritis chronic fatigue and fibromyalgia
Self Esteem
heartbreak
White Light and healing energies
Spitituality without religeon
Happiness
what is love
Sex - What the women are saying now.
psychic Cords
Money Prosperity Wealth
Parents. Who are these aliens?
Incest
Living in the shadows
Affirmations and Mind Power
Words as Medicine
Absent Healing and Chakra Balance
Better Questions Better Solutions
Are we thinking our own thoughts?
Beauty Myth
bipolar
Inspirational quotes
Im right you're wrong
Letter to My son
Songs to make your heart sing
Contact Sonya Green
Sonya Green new articles
Reinventing myself personal growth program
Guided Meditation C.D.s
Now available in Paperback
Creative Visualization guided meditation techniques
How to Meditate, what is a healing meditation like
Weight Loss and  Emotional eating
Fear of abandonment
Stress reduction
Vital Energy oxygen therapy and breathing
Soul Mates and self love
arthritis chronic fatigue and fibromyalgia
Self Esteem
heartbreak
White Light and healing energies
Spitituality without religeon
Happiness
what is love
Sex - What the women are saying now.
psychic Cords
Money Prosperity Wealth
Parents. Who are these aliens?
Incest
Living in the shadows
Affirmations and Mind Power
Words as Medicine
Absent Healing and Chakra Balance
Better Questions Better Solutions
Are we thinking our own thoughts?
Beauty Myth
bipolar
Inspirational quotes
Im right you're wrong
Letter to My son
Songs to make your heart sing
Contact Sonya Green
Sonya Green new articles
Reinventing myself personal growth program
Guided Meditation C.D.s
Now available in Paperback
Creative Visualization guided meditation techniques
How to Meditate, what is a healing meditation like
Weight Loss and  Emotional eating
Fear of abandonment
Stress reduction
Vital Energy oxygen therapy and breathing
Soul Mates and self love
arthritis chronic fatigue and fibromyalgia
Self Esteem
heartbreak
White Light and healing energies
Spitituality without religeon
Happiness
what is love
Sex - What the women are saying now.
psychic Cords
Money Prosperity Wealth
Parents. Who are these aliens?
Incest
Living in the shadows
Affirmations and Mind Power
Words as Medicine
Absent Healing and Chakra Balance
Better Questions Better Solutions
Are we thinking our own thoughts?
Beauty Myth
bipolar
Inspirational quotes
Im right you're wrong
Letter to My son
Songs to make your heart sing
Contact Sonya Green
Sonya Green new articles
Reinventing myself personal growth program
Guided Meditation C.D.s
Now available in Paperback
Creative Visualization guided meditation techniques
How to Meditate, what is a healing meditation like
Weight Loss and  Emotional eating
Fear of abandonment
Stress reduction
Vital Energy oxygen therapy and breathing
Soul Mates and self love
arthritis chronic fatigue and fibromyalgia
Self Esteem
heartbreak
White Light and healing energies
Spitituality without religeon
Happiness
what is love
Sex - What the women are saying now.
psychic Cords
Money Prosperity Wealth
Parents. Who are these aliens?
Incest
Living in the shadows
Affirmations and Mind Power
Words as Medicine
Absent Healing and Chakra Balance
Better Questions Better Solutions
Are we thinking our own thoughts?
Beauty Myth
bipolar
Inspirational quotes
Im right you're wrong
Letter to My son
Songs to make your heart sing
Contact Sonya Green
Sonya Green new articles
Reinventing myself personal growth program
Guided Meditation C.D.s
Now available in Paperback
Creative Visualization guided meditation techniques
How to Meditate, what is a healing meditation like
Weight Loss and  Emotional eating
Fear of abandonment
Stress reduction
Vital Energy oxygen therapy and breathing
Soul Mates and self love
arthritis chronic fatigue and fibromyalgia
Self Esteem
heartbreak
White Light and healing energies
Spitituality without religeon
Happiness
what is love
Sex - What the women are saying now.
psychic Cords
Money Prosperity Wealth
Parents. Who are these aliens?
Incest
Living in the shadows
Affirmations and Mind Power
Words as Medicine
Absent Healing and Chakra Balance
Better Questions Better Solutions
Are we thinking our own thoughts?
Beauty Myth
bipolar
Inspirational quotes
Im right you're wrong
Letter to My son
Songs to make your heart sing
Contact Sonya Green
Sonya Green new articles
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I stood looking out the window at the church across the road, the sun
shone, the tree maintained its usual structure but barely moved, people
walked by chatting about things I could not decipher, a car sped past,  
couples sat sipping coffee at the café on the corner and  I could smell curry
being cooked downstairs.

This was a typical day repeating itself as it did almost every day, give or
take the subtle differences in weather and without the smell of curry. Life
outside my window, life on the street, it all appeared so normal; everything
was still alive, the world was spinning, gravity held it all together and it
looked still, ordered, peaceful and well orchestrated.

My body felt dense and secured, my breath continued to feed me, my mind
was one eye observing itself from some faraway place inside me, looking
out and looking within, my mind was confused and detached and indifferent.
I was waiting for an answer to a question I had not yet formulated. Silence
was screaming. I was dark and hollow, standing in light, aware of the
colours and particles in air, waiting for fear to identify its source, waiting for
an explosion, expecting chills, anticipating a physical melt-down. I imagined
my brain on fire. Should my skin decompose, my bones become powder,
my body should become liquid and I could evaporate.

He was dead. How many times had I repeated that? What did it mean and
why was life continuing like just another day? Why was the sun shining,
how could the tree stand, was there anything to speak about, where was
everyone going? Don’t they know what happened? And why is my heart still
beating, why am I still breathing? Why has all life not stopped?

My heart had always been with him:  when he was far away, when I slept,
when I sang and when I cried. They said his heart stopped. How can that
be – he had my heart, where was my heart?

I locate my heart in my own body, hold my wrist and feel my pulse: It’s
surreal, my heart stretches across eternity calling at him to come home and
yet it mechanically sits in my chest: one two three four, tick tock tick tock,
boom boom boom.

I cannot think, I cannot speak, I cannot feel. I must sleep.  I curl my body
into the position I held in my mother’s womb; a primal place of protection
and innocence. I know I am in pain but I cannot feel it.

Could I will myself into uncreating my life? Can I transcend this life and
meet him somewhere celestial and sweetly scented? That thought is
punched from my mind as I recall him standing in the searing heat and
digging holes in parched red dirt. I smell his sweat and remember the night
he told me that when people love each other they have no smell. He was
trying to explain pheromones and simplified it by saying people who smell
the same cannot smell each other. He picked up my foot, smelled my toe
and laughed, “You have no smell’’.

I took the phone off the hook and closed the curtains. I could not explain
again how I was. The question angered me, “How are you?”

“Unpredictable,” was the best I had.

“What do you mean?”

I don’t bloody feel anything and I feel everything and I don’t know what to
do and I don’ t want to talk and no you don’t know how I feel and the last
fucking thing I need to comfort me is you talking about Your grief. Someone
assured me that he was with God. I hated God for that.

My sister said she would come to me when I was ready, when she came
she bought soup and we talked between long silences.

My son said the thing that made the most sense, “How could he have died,
he always appeared to be invincible.”

I went to his house and he was not there. It was the shell of a crab and the
flesh was not there. His laughter was not there. Neither his quiet night time
voice nor his loud, feisty disagreement was there.  No African drums, no
country music, no radio; no sound, like no smell and no life was there.
There were many things there which confirmed that he had been there: An
empty chair, two glasses on the table, his work gear, his radio, his half
done paper-work, and the car parked out the front… and a computer still
receiving emails and a phone taking messages.

I took the pillow from his bed, his best blue shirt, an emu’s egg and a rock
that he found up north. He had left himself Up North…

I saw a sixpence taped to a note which I had sent him the year before. I had
bet him a shilling that we could be home before the storm set in. He
laughed and said he had not heard of a shilling for many years and
challenged my ability to honour the bet. We were hundreds of miles from
town and the winds were blowing a gale. It was one of those magical times; I
was watching the clouds speed by like cuddly toys being thrown across the
sky and for some reason it was exhilarating. The car radio was low but he
turned up the volume when the old song,
Memories are made of this, came
on. He sang along with it unselfconsciously and I smiled to myself knowing
that that moment was indeed a memory that I would keep forever.

It started to rain just as we turned into the city, I argued that I had not lost
the bet due to the fact that he had taken the long way home. I reneged on
the shilling and sent him sixpence instead. He never mentioned it, but here
it was, he had kept it and that meant more to me than I could have
imagined.

Memories can bring you to your knees and you can cry like a baby or they
can lift you up and fill you with joy and gratitude, mostly, they keep people
alive, not just the ones who have left but the ones who somehow manage
to live on. Countless memories, songs, smells, photographs and the casual
wandering of the heart.

Copyright Sonya Green 2013
 www.reinventingmyself.com
Reinventing Myself - Sonya Green

I bet you a shilling
The surreal and unpredictable nature of grief.
by sonya green


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