Carrie Link

GRIEF

Grief's a strange beast. Sure, there are stages we've all been told about, but what we seldom hear is how these stages are fluid, and cycle, and seem to come back around on themselves with a random quality to them. And I think, too often, we limit our thinking of grief to only mean death.

Death is a relative term.

Lots of things die besides people.

Dreams die.

Plans die.

Friendships die.

We give birth to children that defy the "life" we thought we wanted, and we are forced to let "die" that aspect of our futures.

Marriages die.

The status quo dies.

Careers die.

Fame, prestige, social status dies.

But, as Eckhart Tolle says, life is not the opposite of death, birth is the opposite of death.

Things, besides people, are born.

New friendships are born.

New marriages, sometimes even from the rubble of an existing one, are born.

A sense of wholeness and purpose that defies status, fame and prestige is born.

True peace is born.

Acceptance is born.

Detachment is born.

Compassion is born.

Grief continues to cycle and sometimes grabs us by the throat when we least expect it, but we do not need to keep a chair for it. We can "touch it with gentle awareness" (another Eckhart Tolle-ism) and not resist, nor judge it, but simply say, "Well, hey there, grief! I see you've come to visit again!"

That's what we can do. I'm not saying that's what I do, but those are the chairs I plan to keep. A chair for birth. A chair for newness. A chair for hope. A chair for love.