Archive for the ‘grief’ Tag

A thought on grief

A friend posted a poem on Facebook tonight about how her heart feels shattered, like a broken vase, after the deaths of her beloved brother this month, and sister barely a year ago. Her pain is laid bare in the imagery of a shattered vessel with missing pieces. 

Many of her friends commented with love and support, though some feared her poem was too despairing. 

I have felt the same pain after the loss of my father, grandmother, and mother. Each were dear to me in unique ways, but that shattering was the same each time. It lingers, latent and receding, but present and real. Her moving, plaintive cry in this post spoke to my heart. My brief comment on her post is the lesson I learned from each of those losses. I gave it to her, hoping it would provide a degree of hope and bring a brief respite from the despair. 

Grieve. Heal. Remember. Cry. Laugh. Continue to love. And when the time is right…pick up the shards and fit them, together with your memories and love of them both, into a beautiful mosaic heart full of life and light and the wisdom of your experience.

What we all know, each to their own degree and according to their own experience, is that life goes on inexorably. We either live it or it passes us by while also dragging us with it. Grieving makes mindful, intentional living a daunting, bleak task. It’s so hard not to drown in the tide of tears. 

That’s the moment when you need a reminder that when the piercing pain subsides, the heart once shattered is still strong and whole enough to hold the love and memories of our beloved. And if there are still some cracks and missing pieces, just know that they serve a purpose: the light gets in through the cracks and shines brightest out the windows left in the shape of the loves gone on.  

Love and light and peace and healing to all of us. May we all build our beautiful mosaic hearts from the shards of our grief. ๐Ÿ™๐Ÿ’™๐Ÿ™


Day Five: Be Brief

Today’s Prompt: You stumble upon a random letter on the path. You read it. It affects you deeply, and you wish it could be returned to the person to which itโ€™s addressed. Write a story about this encounter.

Todayโ€™s twist: Approach this post in as few words as possible.
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I dunno if I buy into the mystique and draw of the 100-word story. Are they superbly brief, or just incomplete? You be the judge of my attempt below.

— — — — —

Stunned, only incoherent apologies tumbled from my lips as my shaking hand held out the letter to her. “Sorry! Didn’t mean…your privacy. Sorry. So sorry.”

I expected her to snatch it back and slam the door, outraged.

Instead, we sat together in shared grief for long moments, saying nothing aloud, but speaking volumes in empathetic glances.

Finally, she gave a small smile, patted my hand, and said “It’s okay, you know. It wasn’t lost. I released it to the wind. I wanted one other soul to know. There is strength in sharing.”

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