Keening

Keening

Where do you go from that? My mind became numb and only my body and spirit kept me alive. It was raw and animal. It was primal and full of rage. Yet I knew, I had to keep living.
Of all the things her death taught me, that I MUST live was the greatest blessing. There were other lessons. That I can endure. That I have to do it my way. I could not grieve in some quiet, modest English way. I was a Banshee. I cried almost constantly. Until I was bloated and swollen and almost unable to see. I would sob so violently I would throw up. Yet I kept the house, went shopping, look after my daughter. If I tried to keep it in I simply couldn't carry on. I had to bleed it out of every pour.
I have had physical pain, sexual pain, spirit pain but this, this was soul pain and was like no other.
While I looked like a crazy person I was healing. Washing my open heart wound with salty tears and slowly, slowly it began to heal. Losing a child is like losing a leg. You have to re-learn everything.
For a while the people around me (lets not call them friends) were supportive is uncomfortable. My keening grew quieter. I was able not to cry, but strange things would set me off. In time those people grew impatient with me. Some after a month, some three or four. Some at six. Coming on a year I could almost pass for normal but in my grief I had missed what was going on around me past my immediate need to eat, feed and love my Witchling.
For me to discover I was about to become homeless again because our "friend" was kicking us out, shocked me back to myself.
We lost much again. I had surgery the day after we were moved into the to awful temporary accommodation and I was physically very ill. It became a huge abscess and then I almost died.
I woke to myself again to find my husband was very ill. He was in fact crazy. It was a dark time. I was still potty training Witchling (I did try before but I couldn't keep myself together enough).
I lost my daughter and to kick me in the soul the love of my life was unrecognisable. As warmand kind as he was he was now cold and hard. As smart and generous he was, now cruel and full of rage.
I could barely move my arm and had the district nurse coming a couple of times a day to re-dress and see how I was healing. I did yoga for half and hour twice a day and I slowly regained the use of my right arm.
It felt like forever but in the end we got moved to more perminat housing.
Ken slowly returned and I fell deeply in love with him all over again. I think I fell harder this time than the first.
I had learned I could endure. I would survive almost anything. I could heal from almost anything too.
I began to keep my keening to myself for fear of upseting Witchling or K. That was a mistake, but one made out of love.
I began to put myself last. It would be years before I began to myself first again.
In the mean time, I cried in the bath. I sobbed to loud music when alone.
I know why the Banshee keens. It is the grief and pain. If she is the fae speaking then the land it's self is in pain. Her soul is torn and she can not contain the howling pain.
She is washing her clothes in tears and water, for they are one. I had seen women craddling there dead children on the news before, but now I knew. That open-mouthed-chin-tilted-up wail. You would turn back time, rip out your teeth and hair. walk through fire for those pains are as nothing. I think if we keened more we might all be healthier and more whole.