A post I wrote many months ago on a blog at livejournal.
Heal (Heal) v. t.
To cover, as a roof, with tiles, slate, lead, or the like. [Obs.]
Heal (Heal), v. t.
[imp. & p. p. Healed (?); p. pr. & vb. n. Healing.]
[OE. helen, hælen, AS. hæ¯lan, fr. ha¯l hale, sound, whole; akin to OS. he¯lian, D. heelen,
G. heilen, Goth. hailjan. See Whole.]
1. To make hale, sound, or whole; to cure of a disease, wound, or other derangement; to restore to soundness or health. “Speak the word only, and my servant shall be healed.” Matt. viii. 8. 2. To remove or subdue; to cause to pass away; to cure; — said of a disease or a wound. ”I will heal their backsliding.” Hos. xiv. 4. 3. To restore to original purity or integrity. “Thus saith the Lord, I have healed these waters.” 2 Kings ii. 21. 4. To reconcile, as a breach or difference; to make whole; to free from guilt; as, to heal dissensions.
Heal (Heal) (?), v. i.
To grow sound; to return to a sound state; as, the limb heals, or the wound heals;
— sometimes with up or over; as, it will heal up, or over. “Those wounds heal ill that
men do give themselves.” Shak.
Heal (Heal), n.
[AS. h¿lu, h¿l. See Heal, v. t.]
Health. [Obs.] Chaucer
I wonder, does time actually have the ability to heal. When I think of bones, of sickness, of flood or hurricane I can find proof of restoration, but some how when I think of time healing the pain in a heart I begin to question its effectiveness. Maybe healing is the wrong word…….maybe time handles our pain by simply adding space between the event that caused the pain and the current day. By doing so, as it has with me, it allows me a some what better way of handling the pain I feel. The memories are still there as poignant as ever, yet, there are occasions that I can control my own feelings when thinking about my grief. I never know which way I will go. Will a trigger memory bring me to tears or will I cope and carry on with what I am doing.
Lately, I have come to understand, that I may never be able to accept death, death of my mother particularly. Most everyone thinks I should have passed the grief stage and be almost out of recovery. I, on the other hand, believe the memories will always be there that can transport me back to the day she left without my having control. This week has been that way for me. Little things have brought back crystal clear, three dimensional memories to me. This morning M was criticizing a friend for his response in understanding his cancer and refusing to ask his doctor for a timetable. More than once the word death was used, more than once it painted a picture of saddened darkness, a place I knew all to well. Without further prodding, there in the midst of the darkness my Mother laid in her little bed just following her departure from this world of pain and melancholy, of daisies, sunshine and tomorrow, of deep red roses and battered lace. The image brought my tears rising all to quickly and as I asked him not to use that word anymore he realized how it still affects me.
Then this afternoon, as I watered all the flowers that are gloriously in bloom, the ones I had planted for Momma and have become a tribute to her love and tenderness, I found myself chatting with her just as if she were because she was there at my side. I could feel her touch on my hand, a gentle pat and within colorful blooms and rich green leaves I could see Momma smiling and nodding to me that she loved her flowers. Then it was as though the breeze carried my eyes upward to the clear blue sky, continuing as far as I could see and I knew Momma had swiftly and easily returned to her own Al di La, the place Momma watches from just outside of heaven…..the place I often go to find her.
This time of grief is so mixed in what I feel and others feel. It seems a place where healing can never take place and then again when I feel Momma as I did this after touch my hand and smile in happiness, I begin to think that it might just be possible. It seems this way to be because Momma once again is guiding me to the best place……….possibly a calmness with in my aching heart.