Ten months ago, my baby died in my arms. He was born with a heartbeat and given a name, and for two precious hours my husband and I sang and cuddled him, and loved him as best we could. He lived his entire little life in one small room.
I noticed that people are very kind and understanding about grief for just about three weeks. After that, they really want it to be over. People are scared of grief because we all know it’s a fire we’ll have to walk though. If we live long enough, we will lose someone we love.
People don’t like grief, so they pathologize negative feelings, and tell you that there is something wrong with you for feeling that pain that is the price-tag for joy and love. I believe that grief is a sign of our humanity and the deep and mysterious feelings of our love.
The glorious thing is to love anyway, knowing that this grief exists and awaits us. It is always a possibility, this pain. We know, we’ve experienced what grief is, but we throw ourselves in the deep end anyway. To live without shutting down, to still turn our faces towards the risks, love, and potential loss, this is what it means to live well. Not to rid ourselves of sadness but to understand that the love we enjoyed is worth the grief we face.