a Resilient life [blog]

The Same Inside

September 18, 2016

I find myself in this magical moment of my life: writing to you from the kitchen table in my new home while watching my man and his son standing at the counter eating mango for breakfast. The reason this moment feels so dream-like is that I yearned for it with all my heart for many years. I felt the absence of this moment many times -and I wished it away - but it would not let me go. I endured two years of online dating - most of which was great fun - but full of small disappointments. And then I met Noah, whose unfamiliar way took me a while to place in my life, but soon became the love I had been waiting for. We have just moved in together - me and his two kids - to a sweet, simple home that I couldn't have imagined if I tried. I have a family! I feel found, finally. 

 

This feeling brings to mind a poem by Anna Swir that describes a woman like myself, who has a love and a warm home. And on her way to that warmth, she encounters a homeless woman whom she connects with deeply, in an instant. I have tears in my eyes every time I read this poem, and I believe it's because of the work I do. In hospice social work, I attend the most sacred, vulnerable moments in people's lives, offering them warmth and buoying them in a time when they are drowning in sorrow. It is a curiously joyful experience to hold the hand of a woman as her life-long love is taken out her door, and witness her courage in that moment. Or to sit with a son whose mother is in great pain, and give him permission to feel that pain as deeply. I know that death will come for my loved ones one day, and because of this, I know that I am the same inside as that woman and that son, and all other humans who show courage in times of great sadness. What I have learned is that deep sorrow is just as nourishing as abundant joy, so I welcome both into my life. 

 

The Same Inside, by Anna Swir

 

Walking to your place for a love feast

I saw at a street corner

an old beggar woman.

 

I took her hand, 

kissed her delicate cheek,

we talked, she was

the same inside as I am,

from the same kind,

I sensed this instantly

as a dog knows by scent

another dog.

 

I gave her money. 

I could not part from her.

After all, one needs

someone who is close.

 

And then I no longer knew

why I was walking to your place.

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Located at 703 3rd Ave. Longmont, CO

303-359-0575

Compassionate counseling for individuals,

couples and families

© 2016 by Sharon Wharton.