On Loss and Gratitude
Some friends of mine just suffered a horrible loss. It's not my story to tell, so I won't share the details here. But it feels weird and wrong to carry on with regular blogging without saying something, to mark it in some way.
I can't stop thinking about certain universal truths. Truths we all carry with us but do our best not to think about: Time is guaranteed to no one. Our lives are so fragile. Any one of us can start out on a regular Tuesday, going about our daily routines, and by the time our heads hit the pillow that same night our lives can be forever altered by a catastrophic event.
How do we acknowledge this reality and still carry on?
Honestly, I don't know. All I can say is hug your loved ones a little closer. Don't miss an opportunity to tell someone what they mean to you. Risk being vulnerable and say "I love you" first. Focus on the light in this world. Be the light in this world for one another. Be grateful for regular boring Tuesdays.
Witnessing my friends endure this heartache, I keep thinking of the final lines of the poem "In Blackwater Woods" by Mary Oliver:
To live in this world
you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it
against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it
go,
to let it go.
I don't know how to do this. I really don't. But I recognize it as the truth. My heart is with anyone facing an impossible goodbye. And my heart is with my friends as they try to let go.
