Carrying this grief

That time

I thought I could not

go any closer to grief

without dying

I went closer,

and I did not die.

Surely God

had His hands in this,

as well as friends.

Still, I was bent

and my laughter,

as the poet said, 

was nowhere to be found.

Then said my friend Daniel

(brave even among lions),

“It’s not the weight you carry

but how you carry it -

books, bricks, grief -

it’s all in the way

you embrace it, balance it, carry it

when you cannot and would not,

put it down.”

So I went practicing.

Have you noticed?

Have you heard

the laughter

that comes, now and again,

out of my startled mouth?

How I linger

to admire, admire, admire

the things of this world

that are kind, and maybe

also troubled -

roses in the wind,

the sea geese on the steep waves,

a love

to which there is no reply? 

- Mary Oliver, Heavy

We carry this grief. I can’t always say which way we carry it. Some days we are in a dark valley. There is no sun, no light, nothing to shine on our darkness. Surrounded by peaks, we traverse this dark valley, letting sadness come, memories come, and in some ways consume us. He was our world. The sun which we all spun around, and happily. His joy was infectious. He was the meaning of our life. Then gone. Taking all the light. 

Then some days, we climb up from that place. Together. She and I. Our hearts together, and our love pushing us to get out of that darkness. And we try. We try to stand in the light. We try to smile. We try to laugh. We try to find some measure of happiness. I know for me, it’s her. I love my wife and that’s what gets me up every day of my life. For that love, for our life. Even when I think I have lost who I am, I know I’m still someone, and I’m still loved for whoever I happen to be. 

I still miss him with everything I have and more. I miss the moments of just being. Existing. Without a clock. Without a list. Without a to-do. Just existing in those moments, doing whatever was needed at the time whether it was a trip out into the world and lessons to be learned, or a trip to decide who had the best French Fries. Or a journey into the wilderness to just exist with nothing but our own beating hearts. 

I haven’t hiked in some time. And it shows. But it’s so damn hard to face yourself with just yourself so often. To really look at yourself with nothing and just exist and ask yourself the tough questions. And to visit him, in his element and feel the things he felt. But I did it today and then here I am pouring my heart out, letting the tears fall. Instinct is to run. To run from yourself, your heart, your soul. Because this grief, this all encompassing, heart ripped out of chest feeling is not pleasant and for some, and at times, it’s so much easier to hide from it and not feel it. But here I am today, laying it all bare. 

And I will pick myself up. Do what’s necessary and then go home. To love. To light. And know that things will be okay and sink into a long embrace and just be. Exist. And learn this life together without our sun.