New Years Eve:

December 31, 2022

This beautiful two-verse song came up on my playlist as I was working out today. I’ve always loved how the music and voices evoke haunting anguish in the first verse (sung first in Gaelic) and assurance and soaring hope in the second. Today as I listened, it felt very personal. On the soundtrack for the movie Waking Ned Devine (though not actually in the movie), this song is derived from the belief that by respecting their memory and their wishes, we, the living, can have a sense of communication with those who have passed on. I encourage you to listen to this—a link is at the end of this post.

The first verse (above) is me. These questions tug at my heart and soul constantly, begging for attention. Sadly, it’s the answer that is so very painful. You are gone, Annette, and “forever” has deeper meaning than ever before. But there are other questions not so easily answered, such as: can you hear me when I talk to you? Do you know how much I will always love you? Are you aware of how incredibly thankful I am for the part of you that is so much a part of me?

A couple weeks ago I finished the book ‘Heartbreak: A Personal and Scientific Journey’ by Florence Williams. One of many scientific discoveries concerning loss is that the emotion of "awe" and the cultivation of beauty can be anecdotes for heartbreak. Researchers found that those who were able to feel these emotions after loss had greater connections between sensory and cognitive inputs, memories, and the hippocampus. This allows us to tell ourselves optimistic stories so that we understand we will have more and more moments beyond pain. The steps are calming down, sensory immersion, social and environmental connection, and finding a sense of purpose. I’ve found this to be very true for me. Since Annette’s death, the times I feel most optimistic and on the path to healing are when I connect with people or allow myself to enjoy the beauty in so many things. For example, I had been feeling blue the past week with the constant rain and darkness, which amplified my feelings of loss. But listening to the beauty of this song again and again and letting the tears flow was cathartic. The Grand Canyon trip (see Oct 12 Post) was, more than anything I’ve done, a turning point. While I felt (and still feel) tremendous sadness, I discovered I could still see and experience the awesome beauty of the canyon both alone and with friends and family, and this filled me with joy. I felt deeply connected to Annette. Science demonstrates there are reasons for this.

I’ll end with the last verse of the song. I choose to believe it’s how Annette replies. It answers for me those more mysterious questions and gives me hope. More than anything, it describes the connection I feel, and the faith I have in my ability to heal with my partner still with me in spirit. Again, I hope you take time to listen to it. On the eve of this new year, I wish you peace, beauty, and awe.

I hear your voice calling,

through the silence of time.

I hear you through darkness

when stormy seas run high.

Hear me, hear me,

the sun will rise again.

Hear me, I’m by your side,

our voices speak as one…

Here's winter on the island,

the hearth is cold as stone.

Like a house deserted,

I’m roofless and alone.

Where is your voice?

Where is your touch?

Your breath, your guiding flame?

Where is the light, I miss so much,

In this gently falling rain?

~'Hear Me" by Shaun Davey