I move through the world as a warrior now – stronger and more courageous than I ever knew possible, but also deeply wounded.
Sometimes, I stop and address my wounds. Other times, I have to keep moving or I know I will die. A warrior has to be strong, courageous and brave in the face of deep challenge. A warrior does not know how it’s going to play out, but pushes forward in the face of uncertainty.
The warrior hurts but continues to fight in order to get to a better place. The alternative to not being a warrior is to be consumed by the challenge.
Today, I received a picture from my daughter, Hope, taking a bath in the river, pouring water over her head. As the frigid water splashed over hair, her head was thrown back, her face shining with exuberant joy. One can only understand the depth of this joy by seeing the journey that she has faced, the rugged terrain traversed.
Four years ago, she lost her sister, Chloe – her best friend. On one particular morning, I heard a faint sobbing from a corner of the house. I followed it to her sister’s closet where she lay in a collapsed heap. My maternal instincts were triggered. I had to fix this, that’s my job. My mind raced trying to find the healing balm, the pain reliever or even the promise that it would be over soon, that life would return to the safe, secure landscape we had known. But my hands were empty, I had nothing to offer her in this broken state.
I got down on my hands and knees and crawled into that closet. I laid behind her wrapping her up and crying with her. Our bodies trembled together. They relaxed. We breathed and cried again, until the pain washed over our bodies and we were washed up on the shore of that closet floor.
One of the greatest challenges for me in losing my 20-year-old daughter was also losing my role as healer, fixer and savior for my other two children, Dillon and Hope. I vacillated between anger – that they had to endure such a challenge at their young ages and sadness – that the world had now become an unsafe place. The magical, fairytale world I wanted to create for them had all but crumbled.
I realized that I had not prepared my children to become warriors in the world, but instead I was rushing in to manage their environment, to keep them pain-free instead of letting them squirm and squiggle and fight to develop the strength they needed for life.
As the days progressed, I began to see a surprising evolution happen. While I could be with and for them, this was now a path they were going to have to walk together, alone. They collapsed, they got up. They cried and laughed. They stepped out. I was there, beside them, but they were choosing the warrior path by themselves. My son began to develop compassion for people not present before. My daughter chose new practices of yoga, writing, art and meditation.
It has been four years since that time. Dillon is nearing completion of his pilot’s license and Hope is working for a wilderness therapy program where she is healing herself and offering healing to others who share her struggles of being in various broken states.
My children have taught me to step back, to be okay with pain and struggle. The result is not enduring hardship, but a blossoming courage and fierce determination to stay alive. Not only do they move through the world as warriors now, but they stop to heal the wounded.
Cindy Weaver, 56, is a teacher who has worked in both public and private education for 20 years. She has a Master’s in eLearning Design and a passion for creating websites and working with digital images. Dancing has always found its way into her life and she is presently taking classes in Jazz/Modern and Ballet with a group of beautiful and wise women over 40. Colored pencil is her favorite art medium and drawing faces is what intrigues her most.
At the age of 51, she lost her 20-year-old daughter, which has propelled her into voracious blogging about this profound journey. Her children, including a daughter, 27, and a son, 20, are the gifts of her life. Cindy became a “horse mommy” two years ago when her family decided to move onto a ranch in Colorado as part of their healing journey. The horses came into her life after two years of Equine Therapy and riding lessons. Being a new-time horse owner has revealed many important things such as fear, authenticity, laziness and unconditional love. Please join her on her journey – http://cindyweaver2015.blogspot.com/, https://twitter.com/lightdancer15, http://www.cindyweaver2015.com/