If I trusted grief, I would remember the healing balm of grief. I would recall how my bottomless grief held me in its arms, insulated me from the everyday, and allowed me to deepen and abandon any semblance of shallowness forever. If I truly trusted grief, I would remember that my soul was forged into adulthood by my descent into grief’s depths. Grief showered me with blessings and showed me friendship, tenderness, and compassion in the most unlikely places.
Now, grief is offering me an opportunity to be my authentic, grown-up self. Grief is asking me to attend to the passage of another human being who is descending through layers of confusing and unimaginable loss. If I trusted grief, I would trust myself to hold my loved one close, to tenderly support this person as they experience those losses. If I trusted grief, I would let them lean on me. I would know that I have more strength than I imagine because I have been tempered in the forge of grief, in grief’s crucible.
If I really trusted grief, I would release my anger. In its place, I would discover the gentlest compassion for anyone who is losing aspects of life so quickly, beyond imagining what’s happening.
If I trusted grief, I would be confident in my capacity to support without being diminished. I would understand others’ grief and know it will replenish my spirit and give me the courage and energy to support them. If I truly, honestly, fully trusted grief, I would abandon my fear. I would see the unfolding of this new development simply as part of life. I would embrace this opportunity and accept it as my karma. I have been preparing for this unfolding for the last eight years.
If I trusted grief, I would stop resisting and instead welcome this new grief as my sacred trust.
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