Oh grief, you chaotic, pain-in-my-ass friend.
Friend?
Yes, friend.
How can you call grief “friend”?
I do and can because you, grief, are making me softer and gentler. You are making me feel at deeper levels how precious life is. How to share my heart, to share my love, to share me, NOW. Not later. For really there is no later. There is only NOW. Only NOW is promised.
Grief, my friend, you have me looking at my little girl with more patient and gentler eyes. You have me seeing her with more tenderness, so much so that the beauty and grace and innocence that is her is so pure and at times almost overwhelming to my heart to take in fully. You have me stopping in my busy mom tracks and taking in the entirety of the moment with her. You have me looking at her and feel this deep sense of wonder and oh my god overwhelming moments of gratitude and how unbelievably blessed I am to have this perfect little being in my life.
You have me looking at my husband with a renewing sense of thanks and wonder. You have me seeing how beautiful he is. You have me slowing down to watch the light emanate from his eyes, that pure light of love he shares mostly with just our child and me. You have me seeing not only his light but his fear and pain he struggles with daily as he battles his chronic health issue. You have me slowing down to feel the resonance of his voice within my Being and how, at times, no other voice can soothe me in that very way his voice can.
You have me looking at others with a new sense of tenderness, patience and understanding. You have me feeling the sense of urgency to say “i love you” to those who may not know it. You are allowing me to again see the light in other’s eyes – that light that reminds me of my OWN oft-neglected light. How beautiful that is! You have slowed me down, allowing me to say to myself “it’s ok” – allowing myself to, well, give myself a much needed break – not just in the sense of taking more time for me but also to give myself some slack. Love myself for all that I am. Know I am doing the best I can do. That this is enough. I am enough.
So grief, even though you have all but knocked me flat recently, you have come bearing gifts. And it is my deepest most humble wish that these gifts remain with me – that I don’t return to who I was even just 10 short days ago. That you stay with me. Because through the tears and outbursts of anger and the questioning of Life, God, Purpose and the like, I have found a quiet humbleness within myself I rather like.
