Taking my own advice

A recent post was on the space between darkness and light.  In that post, I tried to encourage people to focus on the light, even in dark times.  Now I am faced with taking my own advice.

A dear friend lost his battle with cancer this week.  Grief lays heavy on my heart.  I think about his wife, his children and grandchildren, his siblings, his lifelong friends, and it makes me very sad.

Then I think about him.  About the amazing fishing lures he created. The amazing photographs he took.  How he loved to fish.  How he loved his family.  How he could make the room brighter by entering it.  And it is a little harder to be sad.

I have a deeply held belief that physical death simply represents a change of state, and that the essence of a being, those things about them that created the unique individual never go away.  Energy can neither be created or destroyed, it just changes state.  So today, I will look for the energy that tells me he is still here.

I will notice the fish jumping as I walk by the lake.  I will look at flowers closely, to try to see the art that could have been created.  I will look at bridges for their poetry with the landscape.

There is no guidebook for grief.  Don't misinterpret that statement, there are plenty of self-help books, and if one or more helps you, please read it.  When I say guidebook, I mean like the guidebook you get in a museum that walks you through, exhibit by exhibit, and tells you something important and pertinent.

Grief is personal.  It is lonely.  Grief has no fixed timetable.  The only advice for someone who is grieving, or someone who is trying to support a grieving loved one, is there is no right answer.  Scream if you want to scream, cry if you want to cry.  Stay busy like a whirling dervish, or lay in a ball and do nothing.   Everyone has to find their own path, and every path is OK.

The one thing I know is the right answer is to never stop talking about or remembering the person who no longer shares this plane of existence.  The most comforting thing any of us have are our happy memories.   Hearing the name of a loved one you can no longer see brings them back for a moment.   Telling their stories keeps them alive forever.

Celebrate the light that our loved ones bring to our lives every day they are here on this planet, and continue to celebrate that light when they are no longer here.

Love never dies.  It just changes state.  As you journey through grief, as we all must, I pray you continue to feel the love that will always be there.