On distance

I spent time with my son yesterday unexpectedly. I left our meeting feeling awful. And I realized that this experience was about distance, and I needed to reframe, to refocus if I did not want to feel so distanced from him. But also to see deeper beyond my own disappointment. To zoom out and see the galaxy of experiences rather than focus on my need. Reframe, refocus. And perhaps I will share this with him sometime.

Your anger creates a chasm between us wider than an ocean separating us, but physically can be measured in inches on this bench. Your learning from your heartache is wrenching as you share each assault, each slight, each unceasing complaint, and knowing that I can do nothing for it – only to listen to your telling. And as you are spent sharing of this heaviness, this life wrenching learning of love and hate, and as you rise to new self-knowing, as you set boundaries through the telling of your story to never allow others to trod on you, the distance i feel is that you can’t recognize me here. My comments are not received, my ministrations are tossed aside in my mistake to give reflection, to give advice. Unwanted. Not needed.

Sitting close by in body, even closer in love. That you are wending your way through the forest of your own reasoning, your own survival. That what I mistook for distance between us, was really that this situation defined your capacity to be able to focus only on what you were feeling and living, pulling this yoke of life, the heavy burden of self-discovery and self-defining. My devastating realization that I could not protect you from these life disappointments, provide the salve for your hurt, your injuries, nor make you feel better by saying anything. Anything. This time was your need to live out loud your discoveries, your truths, your disappointments, and your resolve. I know now that the bridge over this distance, this chasm can only be traversed by listening deeply and being lovingly quiet.  No right or wrongs, no y’shoulds, no why didn’t you’s, no did you’s.  Quietness to allow for breathing, the loud silence of acceptance, space for the sharp edges of life to blur, the need for healing distances.  And there we sat, together.

-Esther Louie

[photo by Esther Louie]