The Gift of Grief
By the end of it he was all cut up and breathless, like a battered little sail boat without a breeze. He faced the scorching pain of “treatment” and the hollow promises of endless surgeries unflinchingly. My best friend Steve did not lose his battle with cancer, he gained a chance to no longer be in unrelenting and unbearable pain. When he passed, the only thought that held me was of him finally being free of it all. He was the kind of guy, and we had the kind of friendship that it would never feel like we got enough time anyway, but with his passing so young (he didn’t make it to 40) and leaving a beautiful young family, the anger, confusion and grief overwhelmed me.
The pain when my grandfather passed was similar, because he too was such a wonderful person, and I will forever long for one more conversation with him. In my mind, I still can see their television room with him in his chair, lap and legs covered in a homemade afghan, talking about how much he loved grandma, or the squirrels outside, or how he hated politicians. He would speak slowly and softly and I would hang on every word. Knowing that he had lived a long full life helped to make some sense of it, but regardless of the older age his loss felt just as somber, searing and sudden.
Death is fascinating in that without it life would have no meaning. The fact that our days come to a close is what gives them indisputable value. Why then is it so excruciatingly difficult to deal with? The loss of anything or anyone from a friend, parent or a family pet can be the most heartbreaking and bewildering times of our lives. It rips us from our conveniently built delusions of permanence and reminds us that it is in fact one of the only things we are guaranteed in this life. That knowledge can either lead to crippling fear or a fierce freedom, we get to choose.
Grief is a lot like a 6-foot party sub sandwich: you absolutely need other people’s help to deal with it. We all do. It is a time to be with family and friends and nurture ourselves while allowing the grieving process to begin. But make no mistake, that is just the beginning. Where it ends, if it ever fully does, is different for everyone.
You can imagine my surprise when one tear-filled day I realized that grief is an expression of love, and how deeply I felt it was a direct reflection of how much that person means to me. Grief meant that my love for them and my missing of them is so powerful that it causes me pain, and it is a reaction that I have as much control over as a sneeze or cough. As I gave myself the permission to express my love for them through grief, a true miracle began to happen. Instead of just anger at no longer being able to see my best friend, I found myself grateful to have had the time we did. Instead of only thinking of wanting one more conversation with my grandfather, I became more thankful for all of the beautifully life changing talks we did have. Love was slowly turning my grief into gratitude, and my memories were turning from overwhelming sadness to a simple thanks for the privilege of getting an opportunity to live and love with such wonderful people. Grief reminded me that all we have is this moment and our love for each other and ourselves, and in the end that is all we need and more than enough.