Quotable:
[G]rief is like that word color because it has a variety of authentic meanings. Some of these meanings blend, some don't. As an artist, I can blend certain blues and yellows to create a rich green, but sometimes, a pure unblended crimson is what works best on the canvas.
Refusing to embrace grief in all it's richness is like deciding to hold our breath to live more fully, or pretending we are not thirsty when we are. It really makes little sense to avoid this gift, which I might even call a spiritual gift or path.
The depression felt physical to me. I thought if someone drew my blood for a medical test, it would simply weigh three times more than usual.
[E]very time someone dies, a hole open up in your heart. And it never closes, as far as I can tell. By the time you are ninety years old, all you have left is a big hole. So it's time to go.
I've noticed that a major expression of grief is a sustained inability to focus.
When I am in this state, I find I cannot follow through, I cannot keep commitments and routines that normally order and structure my life. All of a sudden they seem a bit empty, vague and even pointless. Even when a friend calls me up to try and "distract" me because I am grieving, I find that I don't need to be distracted by anyone - everything is distracting!
Relief is a significant chapter in the scrolls of grief. We need not feel ashamed or guilty about our sense of relief that accompanies the death of someone who has suffered.
Call it a religious proclamation or call it philosophy, it seems pretty true to me, and I find myself holding on less tightly to things - and even people - as I grow older.
I marvel that there are people in Malaysia and Nunavat and in the cities of Perm or Valparaiso I will never know, yet whose lives are as important to them as mine is to me.