artwork by Ari
The moment when we are able to break from grief's prison and move toward the freedom of a life in which we carry the love we shared with those we lost more clearly than the pain of losing them comes at different times for each of us. I'll tell you, briefly, how it happened for me, and then I will tell you what it is ... and what it isn't.
The moment when we are able to break from grief's prison and move toward the freedom of a life in which we carry the love we shared with those we lost more clearly than the pain of losing them comes at different times for each of us. I'll tell you, briefly, how it happened for me, and then I will tell you what it is ... and what it isn't.
The moment when we are able to break from grief's prison and move toward the freedom of a life in which we carry the love we shared with those we lost more clearly than the pain of losing them comes at different times for each of us. I'll tell you, briefly, how it happened for me, and then I will tell you what it is ... and what it isn't.
When my husband died, I thought my own life was over. That's what it felt like. So, I understand when others say they feel this way. After all, how can we even expect a parent to go on without a beloved child or a family to hold together when one important member is missing. A dear friend, a lifelong sibling, others we care so deeply about are hard to do without.
I walked around, went to work, noticed food when someone handed me a plate, but I was not really living. My journey through grief took a very long time. As months turned into years, I found help and hope from other survivors like me, from family. One day, someone I love very much helped me see I did not have to grieve forever. I did not have to leave my soulmate behind. I could take his love with me. And that is what I did. For, what he meant to me, the impact he had on my life, and my love for him still lived.
For me, it was as if a light came on. A light in my darkness. Others have described it as a gentle softening of pain and a growing healing that occurred over time. What all of us felt seemed to be a blessing in the darkest moments of our lives. We could breathe again; we could see beauty that had meant nothing to us before. Many times, it is like a growing closeness - on an undiscovered level - between us and those who had been so dear.
What this was not was an end to all pain, nor was it forgetting. But it was, perhaps, what I call an end to "active" grief, that early horror that is almost like dying. Maybe we go part of the way toward death with our loved ones, following them as long as we can. Maybe we just grieve all that we've lost and all that might have been. Grieving, though difficult, is essential when you love someone so much. It is built into us. But once we walk through our work of processing and sharing and thinking, we begin the journey back to life.
What happened has already happened, but the lives we still have matter. The question becomes what do we do now? Many of us return to life with a dedication to doing our best to honor our loved ones. Knowing them makes us better people. No matter how that is accomplished, it is a goal, a way of living that we might not have had before. Most of those I've met or talked with have an increased capacity for compassion and kindness, a learned wisdom for which they paid dearly. Their loved ones and mine mattered. In their names, we offer comfort where we can, reach out a hand to help others, and make the most of the love we still carry.
We make an impact on the world. And as long as we do, no-one will be forgotten but the love we carry will only grow and grow and grow.
When my husband died, I thought my own life was over. That's what it felt like. So, I understand when others say they feel this way. After all, how can we even expect a parent to go on without a beloved child or a family to hold together when one important member is missing. A dear friend, a lifelong sibling, others we care so deeply about are hard to do without.
I walked around, went to work, noticed food when someone handed me a plate, but I was not really living. My journey through grief took a very long time. As months turned into years, I found help and hope from other survivors like me, from family. One day, someone I love very much helped me see I did not have to grieve forever. I did not have to leave my soulmate behind. I could take his love with me. And that is what I did. For, what he meant to me, the impact he had on my life, and my love for him still lived.
For me, it was as if a light came on. A light in my darkness. Others have described it as a gentle softening of pain and a growing healing that occurred over time. What all of us felt seemed to be a blessing in the darkest moments of our lives. We could breathe again; we could see beauty that had meant nothing to us before. Many times, it is like a growing closeness - on an undiscovered level - between us and those who had been so dear.
What this was not was an end to all pain, nor was it forgetting. But it was, perhaps, what I call an end to "active" grief, that early horror that is almost like dying. Maybe we go part of the way toward death with our loved ones, following them as long as we can. Maybe we just grieve all that we've lost and all that might have been. Grieving, though difficult, is essential when you love someone so much. It is built into us. But once we walk through our work of processing and sharing and thinking, we begin the journey back to life.
What happened has already happened, but the lives we still have matter. The question becomes what do we do now? Many of us return to life with a dedication to doing our best to honor our loved ones. Knowing them makes us better people. No matter how that is accomplished, it is a goal, a way of living that we might not have had before. Most of those I've met or talked with have an increased capacity for compassion and kindness, a learned wisdom for which they paid dearly. Their loved ones and mine mattered. In their names, we offer comfort where we can, reach out a hand to help others, and make the most of the love we still carry.
We make an impact on the world. And as long as we do, no-one will be forgotten but the love we carry will only grow and grow and grow.
