and the sweetness of the leaving

ah, and every day you gaze upon the sunset
with such love and intensity
why it's ah, it's almost as
if you could only crack the code
then you'd finally understand what this all means

ah, but if you could...do you think you would
trade in all, all the pain and suffering?
ah, but then you'd miss
the beauty of the light upon this earth
and the sweetness of the leaving

from jane siberry's "calling all angels"

in the last few days i have lived through quite a loss all to myself with my first experience with miscarriage. it's no fun, at all. nothing redeeming, as anyone would guess. just ugly and tormenting and brutal. and i'm so very, very sad and angry. yesterday i read sharon olds' very raw and personal miscarriage over and over. i needed that though, i think in order to find my own recollections somewhere else--in someone else, i should say. it didn't bring much light though. just stretched out the darkness i was lying under. and i know that's okay to do.

on my way to my ob's office this morning, i shuffled through paul's very icky 80's-male-laden ipod collection and found some light: jane siberry. i'm always aware that things will be okay in the end, even when they're not right now. and when i'm in the thick of pain though, especially this kind which is so foreign to me, peace seems so damn far away. hearing these words, "but then you'd miss/the beauty of the light upon this earth/and the sweetness of the leaving" helped remind me that there is love on the other side of so much of this that's sad and heavy.