Talking about death, loss, and grief can be really, really hard – so hard that sometimes people avoid those who have suffered a loss because they simply do not know what to say, or worry about saying the wrong thing.
And the person who has suffered the loss can often feel so hurt and so isolated by this avoidance, that their grief becomes worse, not better and they feel that they have somehow done something wrong.
So, no one benefits but allowing people a safe space to talk does help. You do not need to make it better or have a solution, you just need to gently stay in that space, so that the other person can process their thoughts at their pace and in their way.
And that is why I wrote this piece on grief, to try to give people a ‘bridge’, to have the confidence to talk to other people who are grieving by helping us all to embrace it, to allow it into our lives, because if not, it will come crashing in, uninvited, perhaps when you least expect it and certainly when you are least prepared for it.
Written with love, as always.
Grief is our lifelong companion – she is beautiful and complex, teaching us all there is to know about love, loss, and living a life that reaches beyond human transactions, to that of a soulful existence that no death can take away.
Grief arrives with our birth, for each moment passed, for each day gone, for each friend lost, for each experience finished, for each relationship over, for each dream spent and for each life ended.
Grief is our personal orchestra, playing our own unique symphony, until it reaches its final crescendo.
The first few instruments start slowly and quietly, as we find our notes.
And as we allow grief to have her place, the notes join up into a symphony that becomes longer and deeper and more beautiful and unique with the passage of time.
Until one day, each of us will reach our final crescendo, a completed symphony that only ever gets played, in full, once – some are short, some are long, some are so full of love and some are so full of angst, but all have their own unique beauty and story to tell.
And then comes the silence, the purity of nothing to allow our soul to find its way home, before our audience finds its voice to ask for more, which, of course, they cannot have.
And in the face of such finality, the weight of love feels completely unbearable for so many.
But it is in fact, not the weight of the love that is unbearable, but the absence of another to share the weight with.
And so, we have to learn to carry that love ourselves and to welcome the sadness, the loneliness, the heartbreak, and the tears as signs, reminders of all of the love we have received, given, and indeed have yet to receive and give.
Because love does not rely on a physical body to be present, it walks with us every day of our lives, often invisible to the eye but the most intimate and present of all companions.
And that is the essence of grief, it’s just love that needs to be held in a different way.