An Embodiment of Lovely Bones . . . in the Flesh

“One who will not accept solitude, stillness and quiet recurring moments…is caught up in the wilderness of addictions; far removed from an original state of being and awareness. This is ‘dis-ease.” ~T. F. Hodge

maskgriefI spoke with someone last night who is very disappointed in me, a voice that indicated how lazy and apathetic I have become since I died. Yes, you read that correctly. I died four years ago and began a slow and arduous descent into a fiery well of capitulation; a fiery well alluding to the hell I created. I am beyond societal manipulation; I am my own judge and I condemned myself to hell.  Edgar Cayce once proclaimed, “All you may know of heaven or hell is within your own self,” indeed, Mr. Cayce, indeed.

I spent the last 1,414 days sinking deeper into oblivion as numbness seized my still beating heart. Numbness is a coping mechanism-perhaps, but an insufficient tool at best. I am merely an embodiment of lovely bones, a walking corpse capable of smiling on demand and laughing when appropriate, sometimes at inappropriate times. At night, however, at night-the tears come when I clutch a fading red scrunchie and the pillow that has long lost his scent. I spent almost 1,500 nights lost in desperation, crying to the point where only occasional gasps for air indicate life. I am merely a heap of bones emitting the most frightful sounds known, unquenchable sobs of loss—loss of love, loss of life, and loss of dreams. I sent telepathic postcards from hell to indicate my frustration at continuing to breathe. I immersed myself into a void so dark that I could only see an occasional glimmer of Hope cowering in a corner to escape annihilation.

insanityIt took nearly 1,500 days and nights for this broken heap of lovely bones to accept the final hand the Moirai dealt to me. There is no escape from hell, but there is atonement for inactivity. There is a rope for which to cling. Last night, a voice told me to cling with all my might and accept my fate. I have much work to complete before I can begin my ascent into light. I will never be released until I accept my sentence. The lazy apathetic heap of lovely bones I became will only continue a slow descent into the depths of desolation until I accept solitude. Learning to exist without love is my penance for lifetimes of depending on another . . . loving beyond the bounds of comprehension.

I woke with understanding, with a clear mission, clinging tightly to an invisible rope and knowing I can escape hell only by abandoning humanity’s curse of the undeniable quest to be loved by another. I was loved, I was adored, my quest was fulfilled. And until I abandon this selfish journey of wishing for more, I only sink deeper into the fiery well of capitulation. I woke to the faintest glimmer of light from above as I realized Hope still lives, though he continues to cower in a corner. He whispered to me to accept my fate and motioned to me to climb his way. And it is with that image, this heap of lovely bones will work harder than ever before, abandoning humanity’s curse to escape solitude and instead embracing the sounds of silence and accepting the harsh pangs of loneliness, all while concentrating wholly on its tasks at hand.


I spoke with myself last night and learned how disappointed I am at how lazy and apathetic I have become since I died. I woke determined to prove that I am strong enough to overcome solitude and accept my penance. I am an embodiment of lovely bones only until I escape the confines of my hell. I will live again one day. But not today. Today, I begin my atonement.

©2013 Relinda R.


6 thoughts on “An Embodiment of Lovely Bones . . . in the Flesh

  1. Very nicely written. I see in there the traces of the two great journeys you are on: your path through grief and your ongoing quest as a student and a writer. I’m never fond of judging but it is not hard to see the great distance you have chosen to cover in the time I have been following your blog. On a related note I am currently reading – no, ‘relishing’ would be a better term – “Stitches” by Anne Lamott. I think you might enjoy it too.

  2. What a powerful piece! I remember well how numbness was a coping mechanism for me. I was that way for two decades unfortunately. Grief steals so much from our lives! Grief is about love, but the other emotions overwhelm that, particularly anger and sadness. It is hard to leave the darkness, but the best part about what you’ve written is the part about choices. There are choices about words that you’ve used, as well. Do not direct anger toward yourself! You wrote that your grief left you (in your words) “lazy and apathetic.” This is more about your being devastated and unable to function. To label yourself that way is cruel. Take the LOVE, which Doyle had for you and you had for Doyle. You are beautiful and amazing and have suffered terribly. You can carry Doyle with you into the sunlight and live Relinda. But this is a choice you must work toward GENTLY. Please be gentle!

    • Thank you for your thoughtful words, Judy. I actually feel determined today. I have become lazy as I wallow in my grief, rather than accomplishing all the tasks I must fulfill. Even though I don’t actively seek companionship, I find myself longing for it and that is what holds me back. It is only through acceptance of remaining alone that I can move toward something better than this torturous existence. I will never be allowed to move beyond this life and into the sunshine with Doyle until I accept the tasks I chose willingly. I am ready to concentrate solely on those tasks. I have been lazy and apathetic, drowning in self-pity and loneliness. I am ready to move forward, accomplishing goals and then I will reach my reward. I realize that it may take many more years, but it waits for me, not in this existence, but beyond. Thank you again.

      • I left a marriage of 31 years to be alone because of self-love. The problem with labeling yourself as lazy is that it is harsh. To be alone and content is about being your own best friend. What would you tell a friend who is suffering with grief? Would you say to her, “You are lazy and a failure!” How would she react? Would that help her to feel productive? I said to you to be gentle and understanding with yourself. By being your own best friend, you will achieve everything you want – including productivity. As a friend, understanding is softer and kinder. You use the word “atonement,” which is also harsh. That is for doing something wrong. There is no right or wrong with grief. Grief is about love that is aching and lost. All you have to do is turn that love to yourself – forgive yourself for what you perceive as wallowing. I see it as unbearable anguish. Move forward now with hope again. With a new attitude that embodies kindness to yourself, you will feel better. You have carried a lot of anger about your circumstances, but you don’t want to turn that on yourself. You don’t have to be a victim of grief anymore. Life will never be the same, it’s true – but you are still alive. Watch and see that all of those tasks won’t be insurmountable when you are less burdened by the heaviness of grief.

        • Thank you for your comments, Judy. It is only when I accept my fate that I can reach that for which my heart longs. No, I would never say that to my friend because I understand the journey. I use harsh words only on myself. I think you misunderstand my situation. There is nothing insurmountable in my life. Overcoming this last obstacle of learning to live without love will be the most challenging, but I always meet my goals because of my determination. I may veer off the main course briefly, but once I set a goal, I reach it. Thank you for caring, Judy. I only have to accept loneliness to the point of forgetting what life is without it.

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