Dancing Into the Depths of the Sea and Me

by Lila on April 3, 2016

2016_03_20 (61 of 236)For three months now, I have been dancing into the depths of the sea. In doing so, I have been dancing into the depths of me.

Sometimes one has to just be with everything for awhile before words can appear, experiences can be shared and some sort of sense can possibly be made out of the things that happen during one’s life.

I have the words.

I’ve shared this experience elsewhere online and many a time offline and in-person when it especially feels most real. My emotions feel like real things and yet I know, they’re not. Home’s suicide still doesn’t feel real and yet I know, it is.

What I don’t know yet is…will I ever make sense of why my friend took his own life last December?

I strongly suspect I won’t. I strongly suspect this is akin to wanting to know when and how I might die.  And the truth is…I won’t know until I get there.  None of us do. Many things we encounter throughout our lives remain mysteries despite how hard we try to figure them out. This is one of them.

What really makes my head and heart and body spin hard and fast is he not only gave up on his own beautiful life, but he gave up on being a father to his sons, the youngest of which is seven years old. He gave up on being a husband to his lovely wife. He gave up on being a son, a brother, an uncle and a dear friend to hundreds if not thousands of people who loved him for who he was. In the end, he could not love himself enough to save himself and that makes me incredibly sad.

This may sound harsh and it certainly reeks of judgment, but had Home been truly in his right mind, he would have seen through his own delusion of believing that all of our lives would be better off without him. They’re absolutely not. We wish he had chosen differently. We wish he would have told us how much pain he was in and that he needed help.  We wish he was still here.

The jury is out whether or not I believe his spirit is experiencing any of the emotional pain he felt while he was on this earth. I would like to think he is free of all that troubled him, however the jury is definitely in when it comes to the emotional pain he’s inflicted on his family and friends through his actions. Having received a text from Home an hour or so before he hung himself on Winter Solstice that said, “I’m sorry,” I am still in pain knowing those are the last words he chose to fucking text me.  I am still grieving. I still find myself staring out into the horizon at sunset wondering why and wishing he was here.

My life, everyone’s life goes on after a suicide has taken place, but what also takes place is a breaking of the soul. My reverence for life has been forever altered in a way that I can’t quite articulate right now, but perhaps in some sick and twisted turn of fate I have Home to thank for.

I have danced sadness and anger as deep as my lungs could bear.  I have cried countless times while dancing in the ocean and have screamed underwater so often I’m sure I’ve drank my own tears. I continue to dance with forgiveness, compassion, acceptance and healing. And all of these things I dance with are not just because of Home’s death, but for the many unresolved issues in my own life that have been brought to my attention through my body because of this tragic event.

Home and I used to dance together. He came to numerous Beach Dances and then one day, he just stopped coming. I never asked him why that was. I just assumed he was off having fun on another Sunday adventure somewhere. I wish I would have told him how much I missed him.  I wish I could have saved him somehow.  I wish his own dance could have saved him.

Dance continues to save me.


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