Mary-Elizabeth Briscoe, M.A., LCMHC, CAGCS Intuitive Grief Counselor, Author & Educator
Mary-Elizabeth Briscoe, M.A., LCMHC, CAGCS Intuitive Grief Counselor, Author & Educator

Looking Up

It’s been a few weeks since I ended my series on grieving. One good thing about writing that series is that it not only helped me in my grieving but too it demanded I show up for my writing. The last few years took my time, energy, and interest elsewhere, and now, well I suppose there are no excuses not to at least carve out some time on the weekend for my blog. So, here I am.

I spent a good part of this morning on the deck with the dogs. Seamus hasn’t been well the last couple of days and Fergus always enjoys a lazy day on the deck, so rather than the walk I had planned we sat in the quiet of the morning. A rare thing to have quiet in the summer on Cape Cod, but early Sunday morning you can steal a quiet hour or two. So we did.

The gentle breeze cooling the heat from the June sun made it comfortable to sit. The Topaz blue sky lured me in and offered the most beautiful streaks of cloud. I was mesmerized. Memories from childhood danced in my mind. The hours in our backyard, or camping, or in the mountains at my grandparent’s summer cottage spent watching clouds float by and noticing their shapes and figures. Maybe an elephant, or a bird, or the face of an angel. Cloud friends letting me know no matter where I was I was never alone. A comfort of sorts.

I’m not sure where along the way of my life I stopped noticing the clouds. Somewhere in the growing up part I suppose. It wasn’t until I was in my thirties and caring for my Aunt Pat that I remembered clouds. She would sit each day on her back porch looking up to the sky watching the clouds. I’d stand silently beside her and watch with her. I wondered what she must have been thinking at those times. Maybe how her life had been, how her hopes and dreams turned out, and how soon she’d leave this world for another, her body slowly letting go of its grip on life. Or maybe she watched with hope or gratitude. I don’t know but I am forever grateful for so many gifts she gave to me that summer, and remembering the clouds is among them.

Funny how often we can forget to look up. When living in Ireland I would wander the shoreline almost daily, my eyes cast downward minding the uneven rocky shore and of course searching for treasures. My sister Christine would remind me to look up from time to time so I didn’t miss what treasures were above me as well. She was right. So often I would glance up and see the most beautiful rainbow, sometimes two. Or a storm cloud blowing our direction, or the heron that followed me on my walks taking flight.

Gifts just waiting for us to notice. To remind us of the beauty that still exists in the world and to remind us we are never alone. I watch the clouds now and imagine Aunt Pat with her smile and bright shining eyes looking at them from another side now and happy to see that I am still looking. Maybe we are seeing them together again. Maybe. It feels good to think so. They are a reminder I am never alone. A reminder to stop and look up every now and again. Try it yourself. You won’t be disappointed. Let me know what you find in the sky…