A hug for my soul

A journey of grieving and healing after child loss

People of the Sun

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Sitting at my mother’s house, I lean my head backwards so my whole face gets to bathe in the blinding winter highland sun.

UV, UVA, warmth, life’s wonders, I got some back.

The house is different, people who live in it are different, the mentality of just chilling out and doing nothing is different, all outside circumstances have changed. The young woman is grown, the mother is getting old, the youngest girl wonders why winter can be so warm, yet they are all here. People of the sun.

Some fear its power, I miss its magic.

A warm bath or shower by the water heated by sunlight like the old days smells like the rawness of nature, mixed with the mystery of its travels and those it has spoken to. It touches my skin like grandma’s rough palms, and cradles the frozen winter kidneys with its feminine force of nurture. All cleansed. Next come tears, tears of joy and release.

Lots agree that the sun represents the infinite father figure – ambitious and authoritative. I grew up in the state of sunshine, had the luck to be nurtured by its warmth into the heart and the lives it brought with to build my body strong.

Rising up with the sun brings a lovely day; Taking a nap in the mid-day sunshine melts a frozen heart; Retreating and staying put when the sun hides behind thick clouds prevents insanity; Doing your washing and letting it dry in the sun is like inviting a hundred fluffy puppies into your garden; Tea, gardening and sun-dried hair? The soul sitting comfortably at home.

In all aspects, the sun brought me up like a grandmother, a mother and a guardian goddess. She has shaped my soul to be soft and warm, she taught me to be kind yet firm, she reminds me of my true essence when I’m depressed and hopeless, she has always been sturdy, graceful, powerful and enduring. I love how feminine yet strong it has made me, I am proud that when I need to rest and reset, she has always got my back, literally with her warm hugs.

Some see her more as a seasonal vacation, an instant glow, an attempt to nature’s secrets, or a validation of leisure and luxury of time. The sun is more than that. She has always been there, quietly yet gracefully, keeping all running their courses, knowing when and where she should make an appearance or hide, lighting up pathways for the lost and providing sanctuaries for the hurt. Where she shined its light into, love awakes; where she hides, you know it is okay to just surrender, sometime soon the next sunrise comes.

When you impatiently whine about what comes next, she lovingly tells you to take one step at a time.

It is the love of the mother.

Even when you feel your mother has abandoned you, far far away behind the clouds, she is there; even if your mother no longer has a physical body, so close to your core, her light shines, her warmth lingers.

Love

To the sun. To those who are blessed to have mothers and those who miss their mothers in heaven. To the suns which shine so bright in our hearts.

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