On Loss and Life

The past month has hosted a multitude of losses for several of my closest friends.

One couple tragically lost their teenage son in a car accident. 

Another friend was delivered unexpected news about her health that will require chemotherapy and radiation and the possibility of further surgeries before she regains health as she once knew it.

In both situations, the grief has been immeasurable.

Tears have flowed to the point where it seems impossible that our bodies could conjure up more.

There were moments of laughter and sprinklings of hope and joy, but there has been a weight that sat squarely on my shoulders; a reminder of the freshness of these losses. 

It's easy to fall prisoner to such suffering... to curl up in the pain and take residence in a blanket of sorrow. It seems to make some sense that in holding on to grief, we hold on to that which we lost a bit longer. We become identified by our loss and that becomes our "new normal".

I cannot pretend to understand the enormity of my precious friends' pain. I have not experienced their loss firsthand.  I have lost loved ones under unexpected and extreme circumstances, but I do not know their personal pain. I just know that seeing those you love most enduring such agony awakens grief.

Grief is tricky.

Grief is experienced and expressed through a full spectrum of emotions and actions. 

For some, it's a private, internal battle where "What if..." and "If only..." lead the attack.

For others, it's an outward proclamation of unfairness and rage.

There is no "right" or "wrong"; only raw emotion, where deep sadness resides.

And then there is life.

A turn of the head reveals that, in the midst of suffering, there is still celebration.

Babies are born. Weddings take place. Victories are won. Life continues.

There is goodness and hope and joy.

In one of my darkest hours, I bought a simple magnet for my refrigerator that states,

"It will all be okay in the end.

If it's not okay, it's not the end."

On countless occasions, I felt as if I was gaining some ground when a setback occurred and I would recite these words to myself as a personal mantra. 

There were certainly times when I questioned whether or not I would ever truly be okay.

But I am. 

In time, the celebrations outnumbered the instances of suffering.

Seeds of hope sprouted into joy.

I nodded, allowing myself to host these blossoms and eventually nurture them into vines of gratitude. 

Somehow, life lessens loss if we turn our heads and seek it.

When our intentions are joyful, we will find joy.

It may take time and practice, but joy will present itself.

Intention is key.

Our emotions usually follow our intentions.

I don't know how to help my treasured friends navigate the journey ahead, other than to just love them, listen to them, and encourage them. Grief has no pace. It's personal and very real.

When time has healed their raw wounds (as time always does), I will encourage them to turn their heads towards life.  I will nudge them to accept hope, and eventually joy, without guilt. 

I hope that, because of their experiences, their celebrations are much more meaningful.

I will walk alongside them and remind them that it WILL somehow all be okay in the end.

Be gentle to one another.

Love, Live and Create with intention,

Kristi