The Swan, transformed pain.

For over a month  “The Swan” cello solo from Camille Saint-Saens “The Carnival of the Animals” played in my head. Not unpleasant, but curious, I had not listened to that particular piece in a long time. I would hear it in my head all through the day and it suddenly occurred to me that it was Justin. Every child has their own song in their mother’s heart, a melody that plays background to all that she does. When Justin was killed, that melody disappeared, his was a lilting song,  flutes and light, then oppressive darkness when he died. And then this sonorous cello filled my head, so resonant and rich. The voice of the cello lingered on each note, so much that I could actually rest with each note, no fear of it disappearing too quickly, it ebbed and flowed, weaving sorrow and strength. I finally sought out a recording of it, I worried that listening to it would stop the solo in my head, but it didn’t.

The cello seemed to give voice to another thought that spun in my head, that of transformed pain. The realization and acceptance that the pain of Justin’s death would never go away, but the pain transforms into energy. It is not the high wired energy that I once knew, where things were accomplished in rapid succession, it is a lower tuned energy.  This energy is finite, there will still be days when exhaustion rears its head. This energy is discerning, not quick to apply itself, but moves much slower in expenditure, weighs the project at hand. This energy can let go of something with no regret or guilt, recognizing the good of the endeavor, but also recognizing a “not now.”  This energy is not the energy of spring, new and bright, it is more ancient, it is an energy that I can ask questions of, seek wisdom of, find peace in its strength.

There is a stillness and calm in this energy. Pain transforms us from the inside out, time is the greatest gift you can give to someone in that transformative process, it cannot be hurried or cajoled, bullied or demanded. Like water, it shapes and molds its own path.

I keep the CD on the my desk as a reminder that pain transformed, is still pain, but it has life and energy, it has hope and endurance. It is my child’s song.

I am sure I will blunder as I attempt to live in harmony with this new energy, it cannot be grasped or held, it will not be manipulated, but I believe it to be generous and flowing. I know that I can live with Justin’s new song in my heart, he will forever be that cello melody that plays background to all that I do, all that I am. It plays counterpoint to the song that is Ryan’s, melding and weaving a seamless symphony. I still have two sons, forever brothers.

The same day, practically within the same hour after writing this post, I was cleaning and sorting through the ground clutter and came across a small stack of Justin’s CD’s that had not made it into the box to be shipped to Ryan. And there was his CD of Yo-Yo Ma with the swan on the cover, the very version that I heard in my head and heart. Confirmation that what I heard and felt is real, my heart recognizes my son. The pain is intense, but I will hold onto those notes that linger and weave through my day. I keep the CD on the my desk as a reminder that pain transformed, is still pain, but it has life and energy, it has hope and endurance. It is my child’s song.