Yoga For Grieving

Breathe in, breathe out. Stretch into an inhalation and relax into an exhalation. Doing yoga has been part of my morning routine for years now. The asana vary, the position of my yoga mat has shifted as I rearrange and make the room my oldest son left a year ago into my space. Yoga has become so much a part of me that I climb the stairs, roll out my mat, turn on music and set up aromatherapy without being fully awake. Often, I begin seated with my eyes closed doing some breath work or pranayama. Almost immediately, I feel a rush of alertness and I am ready to add gentle movements.

For the past few weeks, the alertness has brought with it the memory that Alex died in July. I find myself sobbing as I move into some positions, especially child’s pose. Other times, tears roll down my cheeks as I hold a pose.  Being present in my body is emotionally challenging these days, but necessary. It is part of how I am healing. I am supposed to keep on living, working, and going about my life without Alex. It feels like an insurmountable task most of the time.

Two weeks ago, when we emptied his apartment with the help of his girlfriend and several of his 12 step friends, I kept Alex’s desk and bookshelf and few mementos that remind me of the boy and man who was mine for 26 years. His AA literature, some art books, and the Lego Falling Water he made at 16 are lovely reminders of happier times. I find myself having conversations with Alex since I brought his cremains home last week. The rainbows that dance around my yoga room thanks to the crystals I hung in the windows also feel like a spiritual connection to Alex. He liked the rainbows when he saw them on a visit after he moved into his own place.

Now, I need to refocus on my breath and my body. My movements remind me that I am still here, and Alex is not. I started yoga to improve my ability to manage stress and to stay flexible as I age. Today, yoga keeps me grounded as I grieve and try to figure out how to keep living after Alex’s tragic overdose. I am not grateful that Alex is gone, in fact, I am very angry and sad, but I am grateful that I have a practice that helps me to take care of myself as I grieve.