Growing, Grown, Gone

Saying “Goodbye” is as much a part of life as saying, “Hello”.

The dying bloom of a flower can remind us of the passage of life, with losses and grief from losing something or someone

The amaryllis blooms are done. They were beautiful while they were around…but life for all living things is fragile and fleeting. They were the star of the show at my dining table for days, but now they are gone. I’ve moved them from center stage, and am seeing if I can help it gather up enough energy to grow again after a period of dormancy.

I took the photo January 1st. It seemed interesting to me that on the day of new beginnings, I took a photo of the end of these flowers. A part of me was loath to take the photo, and I certainly had not intentions of posting it. I wanted the “growing amaryllis series”, as I called it in my head, to end with the bright red blooms in a moment of gloriously blooming red triumph.

But when I thought about it, I realized that life doesn’t end “happily ever after”, because loss is inevitable part of life. The ultimate loss is death, and most of us blithely go through life not living as if we will someday die, and that the ones we love will also die. But there are many other losses…loss of a job, loss of a relationship, loss of vision (I’m currently losing my ability to read without adjusting the distance of the page to my eyes carefully), loss of special plans on Friday night, loss of being able to cuddle with your toddler when he becomes more independent, and so on. Each new stage of life that we welcome is accompanied by loss of the previous stage. I’ve sometimes had discussions with new mothers who love their infants, love motherhood, but have no words or ways of holding the grief of the loss of independence and freedom that is gone now with the demands of a newborn.

Thus the picture of the amaryllis in its final stage seemed to be as appropriate and necessary as the big red blooms…part of aknowledging that loss is as much a part of life as celebrating the joy of life.

At the center of my table are now my paperwhites…I bought them on a whim (…actually I bought them because they were 40% off, and I like a bargain).

New buds remind us that the life cycle continues, and that hellos happen after goodbyes.

They remind me that life, as we say goodbye, gives us opportunity when the time is right and we are ready, to say “hello” to something else. This doesn’t diminish the significance of the loss. It doesn’t erase the loss. It doesn’t cover up for, or “make up” for the loss. But it does give opportunity for a newness and joy of its own.

The necessary losses of life create space for new things to happen. Those losses need to be grieved and remembered and honored and aknowledged and mourned and given proper significance.

At the beginning of this year, take stock of the losses you’ve had recently, and let them be important.