I can say truly that for me grieving my darling husband, something I thought was endless, truly began to change color slightly in the sixth year after his death.
And by year seven, his loss had become "composted" somehow... made part of me.
The so-called stages of grief, the prognostications of how long it takes, or, worse, "should" take, seem to me such a violent disservice to the process, so one-of-a-kind, so universal.
That being said, I wonder about the seven.
Recently I read that every single cell in the body turns over, dies and is replaced, in a seven year period, so that each seven years we are literally, physically, not the same person we were. I don't know if this is true or not, but if so, it would make sense to me, for during those seven years after he died (although the frequency of grief attacks lessened over that time), the loss felt almost cellular.
Too, my friends who practice astrology tell me that there is a seven-year Saturn cycle. Saturn, metaphorically, symbolizes a process of learning through restriction; as the planet is "ringed" and contained, so the image goes, so we are sometimes bound, encircled by chains, of time, loss, restriction. (By contrast, Jupiter symbolizes learning through joy and growth, not restriction.)
And of course there's the apocryphal "seven year itch."
So is there something about seven years, bearing in mind the generalizations about grief and "how long it takes" are generally odious?
At any rate, I know seven was a substantive pivot point; like the winter solstice, in my heart I began moving back towards the light again.
Tags: cycles, death, grief, grieving, joy, length, loving, of, solstice, time
Share
-
▶ Reply to This