More thoughts on grieving a loved one

This made me stop to think, especially as a followup to Sharyl Sandberg's reflections that I posted a few days ago.

What I have come to realize lately: how conflicted I am about how I trapped by the fragility and brevity of life, and yet wanting to continue in that feeling because it keeps my loved ones closer to the surface in my consciousness. 

A life-long process of living with loving.

I hope you have a lovely and thoughtful Sunday, dear Friends!

From the memoir Lament for a Son last year. In the book, a professor writes about the loss of his 25-year-old son, who died in a mountain climbing accident. One of the truest description of grief.
This line, I loved: 
Rather often I am asked whether the grief remains as intense as when I wrote. The answer is, No. The wound is no longer raw. But it has not disappeared. That is as it should be. If he was worth loving, he is worth grieving over.
Grief is existential testimony to the worth of the one loved. That worth abides. So I own my grief. I do not try to put it behind me, to get over it, to forget it… Every lament is a love-song.
The paragraph made me realize: You’re allowed to be sad. For as long as you want. The person is worth grieving. It was surprisingly reassuring.
Also, from modern-day sage Anne Lamott:
Death; wow. So f-ing hard to bear, when the few people you cannot live without die. You will never get over these losses, and are not supposed to. We Christians like to think death is a major change of address, but in any case, the person will live fully again in your heart, at some point, and make you smile at the MOST inappropriate times. But their absence will also be a lifelong nightmare of homesickness for you. All truth is a paradox. Grief, friends, time and tears will heal you. Tears will bathe and baptize and hydrate you and the ground on which you walk.
via {cup of jo


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