Grief is love that doesn’t know where to go.
A friend posted this on Faceypage yesterday. I gulped a gasp of “yep.” These past years have been filled with sorrow and grief as young loved ones have died. Too soon. Or right on time. I don’t know. The realities of living, and knowing that we all die is simply too much to take at times. Knowing, too that in the living there are heart breaks, leavings, missed chances and regrets compounds the sadness.
Grief is love that doesn’t know where to go. Such a profound sentiment when I consider sitting at a “party” after my bestest friend died and we’d scattered her ashes just beyond the Golden Gate Bridge. On one hand it was nice to be with others who had known and loved her. On the other hand, I can still feel the cold emptiness thinking “omg – if she were here she’d be rolling her eyes or squealing in fits of hysteria to hear these stories…” Soon realizing I couldn’t just run home to email her the juicy details of who said what and how crazy it all was. It happens again and again that there’s no one else who would understand. I reread the thousands of emails we exchanged. Replay the conversations. Our last visit. Inhale the mix of her jasmine and black pepper perfume. Run my fingers over the necklace her mother gave her, and she gave to me that day when we poured over family photos, beers and burgers at Raleigh’s in the midst of bereavement after her mother died.
A few weeks back, I ran into a mutual friend who wasn’t able to be there that day on the boat. She was the beloved neighbor who I met a few times over the years. Once we realized who each other was – we hugged long and hard. Just thinking of that moment brings tears to my eyes. Remembering again that grief is love that doesn’t know where to go and yet – in surprising moments there is love around to to share the sorrow.
Writing Prompt: Once upon a time she told me…