The gifts of grief — The Mark of Joy

Today marks 2 ½ years since Dad died. How is it possible that it feels like eternity, and yet also still so fresh in my mind and heart? It’s been 2 ½ long years of living with grief. Grief is a familiar new tenant in my body. I’m familiar with its weight on me that can weigh me down like a drenched towel wrapped around my shoulders. I’m also familiar with the way grief helps you float over new pain, new pain doesn’t feel as bad, it doesn’t sting as much as it would have in my prior, non-grief-filled life. Grief feels like a lens that is constantly between me and my reality. It’s a view point from which I now stand.

Some days the grief feels acute, like the early months following February 11, 2017. But more often than not, it’s just something that is part of me. It sits alongside of me all day long and weaves its way through my thoughts.

Enjoying a simple moment with my favorite boy, Chuck

But the other thing I’ve noticed is that the grief leaves an opening in my heart. I have a larger capacity to notice the good. I feel greater joy when I see an old couple holding hands as they walk through the park, or when I see a stranger help another stranger. And for myself, I am more deeply touched by the kindness I receive from other people. There’s a vulnerability within me that is impacted more greatly by random thoughtfulness and moved by the bright spots I witness in my world.

Something pretty wonderful happened to me last week.

I was in a car accident on 93 South. I know that doesn’t sound wonderful but trust me- keep reading. I was heading to my favorite lunch spot, a local salad bar up the street from me. A stupid mistake on my end left me with a car I can no longer drive. Luckily, the trailer being pulled by a truck in front of me, had minimal damage. After exchanging information and driving off, I sent a text to the driver of the other car and asked him to avoid going through insurance and instead to send me a bill directly for the light he had to replace. Here is his response:

I almost couldn’t believe what I was reading. I read the message a few times until it sunk in. This complete stranger was showing me such compassion that I was immediately humbled. Even more so than that, it made me feel so happy to be alive and to experience this moment. A complete stranger acknowledged that even 2 ½ years after a tragic loss, I still need empathy, love, and compassion. He could look beyond the fact that I busted his trailer and delayed his trip, and instead he could see that I was a person- a whole person, not just the idiot who hit his car.

Someone once used the term, “the gifts of grief.” And I believe she is right. There are things I experience and there is a way that I percieve moments of my life because of those dark moments. I have become more absorbent of the smallest joys and they truly do carry me through.