Grief is difficult and beautiful. It is overwhelming and clarifying. It invites appreciation and regrets, celebrations and breakdowns.
Grief surrounds loss—perhaps a physical death but also the incremental deaths of abilities, access, connections, and plans. We mourn what we miss in the past and what we won’t have in the future. We simultaneously savor what we have now. We find strength in where we’ve been and hope in where we’re headed.
Grief makes us feel weak. Grief reveals strength.
Grief looks us in the eyes and reveals truth. It reflects the truth of who we are and exposes the truth of how we feel.
We can try to mask or deny it, but grief doesn’t let us lie. It makes us was to crawl into a dark cave but we find ourselves vulnerable in the blinding sun in an open meadow. We catch glimpses of the intense beauty of around us as we constantly twirl in circles. We can’t stop despite being dizzy and disoriented.
Grief has no boundaries but it confines us.
And it frees us.
Grief has context because of its connections but it is rarely crowded. Some pieces of grief can only be experienced on our own.
Grief is often impatient yet so pervasive we don’t feel as if we will ever escape it. In a sense, we never will. And that’s okay, because…
Grief is marbled with love.