Dear Grief,
It seems we are passengers on the same train, one that I would rather not ride.
Like all who travel together, we can ignore one another, or
I can pay attention to you.
If I do, I will see the things you are teaching me
Things I didn’t really want to learn.
You teach me that moments matter more than the whole.
You teach me that the platitude about life being brief and precious and fragile is, unfairly, true.
You teach me to hold Joy when I find it, to revel in its colors, its lightness, but
You teach me to let Joy fly freely away, secure that it will send me another flitting, fleeting messenger when I need it.
You teach me that love is all that matters in the end.
You teach me that I can celebrate what was so very good, without asking it to be perfect.
You teach me how lucky I am to have loved and been loved, that love’s gift is always worth its cost.
You teach me that I am rich in recollected laughter and stories.
You teach me that goodbyes hurt because they are a moving, a shifting, a metamorphosis into a new form. That a relationship will always be a marking on my heart, even if it must look different now.
At some point, Grief, we will reach this particular journey’s end,
But I know we will travel together again.
There is more I need to learn.
There is more you have to teach.
And I do not fear you anymore,
For I know your lessons have helped me to travel lighter, freer,
And to soak in the views along the way.
