Every time I leave the house and step foot into the the public space – grocery stores, farmers markets, restaurants, where the townsfolk hang etc. – I can feel people’s projections of me. I can sense that they have a new idea of me, a mind made concept of who they think I am – now that I lost my brother.

And it’s so funny, because when I run into people, who I feel to be in that moment – who I really am – is never who they think I am. I want them to know who I really am, and who I have discovered myself to be through this experience of grief. Because they don’t see me, I want to shake them. I want to look deep into their eyes and yell “you’re not seeing me, you’re not seeing the grace of this being, the soul underneath this flesh.” My soul desperately wishes that they see me through their own projections.

Their eyes dart away from me, they jingle the change in their pocket, they start to get nervous. I can sense what they are thinking. “Poor girl, how awful. Now what do I say? How do I get out of this convo asap.”

I know this because before going through this loss, that was me. I projected my own ideas of what death, grief, and loss looks and feels like onto grievers. I was so frightened by death and I didn’t want to think or talk about it. And now I’m on the other side and I want to share something with these folks who just don’t know.

I wish you knew that through this grief, my heart has opened. I wish you knew the immense love I’ve tasted through this experience, the presence of the divine that I’ve felt, the tenderness of my own heart that has been exposed to me, the joy I have touched and danced with, the deep surrender, and my own dying to what is. And yes, I have been kicking and screaming too, resisting this awful loss, grieving, and suffering. But that’s all you see. You see your own projection. And It’s just too bad. It’s too bad for me. But it’s really too bad for you too. What a miss. We could be experiencing god/love/presence together. We could be meeting each other in a human moment.

We say our goodbyes, and I know what you’re thinking. “Thank heavens that’s over. Time to run away. Fast. And never think about death again.” What a shame.

I hope someday we meet each other again, in loss – and in love.