Cemetery of Tears.
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The Cemetery Of Tears is where to bury the people who couldn’t love you.
Here, this place, this special place inside the landscape of your life, is where you inter for this lifetime the ones who lack empathy, the users and the ones who do not care.
Not one grave here is dug without so much heavy effort, with so much thought and care. Shoveling and digging through the hard soil, the rocks, the layers, meeting tears, your stages of grief. The waves of finality, the action you never in a million years thought you would take. However, in these cases even your precious loyalty isn’t of value among the dead. So dig, lover girl, dig!
Dig out the wound they made, or the wound they reopened… and dig for your self-respect.
Remove that veil of denial! You cannot unsee once you see.
Think about love, what it means, what it is, how its demonstrated… or not.
Dig!
Oh, to look at the rotten truth! To know at least what love is not, and to lay to rest the innocent hope of discovering together what it is with these selfish and cold corpses!
Dig!
As you lower that heavy load to their grave, let go of the shame they left, let go of all you hoped, let go of all you dreamed, let go of all you felt, let go of all you cherished in them, let go of who you thought they were.
You didn’t know.
Forgive yourself.
And… know that you are safe from what you couldn’t see, know that you walked away from what hurts you, what couldn’t love you. As each day, week, year goes by, know that you have honored yourself, championed yourself, loved yourself.
With acceptance comes realizing that these challenges are universal, that you are not alone, that the death of anything is not a failure but another blessed experience on this wild ride we call life.
So this special little cemetery where you inter the cruel with your tears is a very precious place where we take our inner child to visit and show her how much we care for her and protect her from harm. Sometimes we visit the headstones, one fucker or another, and remember what we learned from those encounters.
She knows how difficult it was for for us to make these decisions, to let those people go, to let go of hope, and we know how difficult it was for her to go through the terribly painful losses. We take these things very seriously, and all is felt and deeply held.
As we wander the paths of this sad and beautiful place, we don’t try to make sense of any of it, but have compassion for the ones we loved and who lacked compacity to love us back. The mother and fathers who missed out, the lovers who were just like them in some way.
Compassion for our sweetness to love so innocently, to believe so passionately in peace and understanding only to be crushed with the pain of being unseen and devalued. We are humbled by the power that these metaphors of death show us about life and the short heroic journey of being human.
It’s not too often I linger here in my own cemetery of dead ends and tragedies, but it serves an important and essential service as all cemeteries do, to hold what is loved but is no longer here. We come to bury what no longer is alive, to find ourselves a little more, to leave behind where all dead things belong, and to remember how valuable we are.
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Gretchen Spletzer is a writer living in California, a researcher into the nature of consciousness, and an explorer of the multidimensional universe. You can connect with her on Facebook or on her blog.
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