My Mother’s death attracted Grief to my soul’s door. I was not ready for this presence, and I received no warning of its incredible abilities. Grief did not knock before it entered, proving it truly has no regard for manners or common courtesy. It barged in fiercely and swiftly, enveloped my soul, and left my heart vulnerable to its wrath. When Grief was around, I almost longed for the presence, instead, of its more benign cousins, Sadness or Helplessness. However, Grief likes to be the center of attention. It wants to be its own ‘life of the party.’ It demands complete focus on itself. Yes, if I were Grief’s therapist, I would diagnose it with a personality disorder. Absolute narcissism
I’ve realized, however, that Love and Time stand up to Grief. They intermingle with Grief, and together, reduce and limit its power. Grief considers itself a lifetime ‘associate’, however, and invites itself to visit at the most inconvenient times. For example, it stopped by recently when I wanted to model a new pair shoes for my Mom. It also showed up the day I found my wedding dress, and the day I walked down the aisle to join my husband at the altar. Of course, it had to bring attention to itself during those precious moments when I looked into each of my son’s eyes for the first time. And, whenever I make my Mom’s famous banana bread, Grief decides to join in, distracting me from the wonderful smells and fond memories I so enjoy.
Although I never intend to invite Grief to visit, I can appreciate its impact on those who have been submersed in it. I understand Grief, somewhat, and am aware of its power and its impact on our souls. I can also see the beauty in Grief’s interaction with Love and Time, and how the three, together, can create deep and intense meaning in our lives. Grief has helped bring me closer to my authentic self, and I know that. I will never share this with Grief, however, because it already has a high opinion of itself. I’ll simply give Love and Time credit for this. They deserve it more.
