Sunsets

It’s been 15 years since the accident that cut AJ’s life far too short.

Today it’s very foggy outside, I can only see a few feet in front of me, this feels like a poignant picture of grief. It’s like the clouds come down from the sky and the gray consumes and smothers you. It’s hard to see the way ahead. It’s hard to see the way anywhere, like a fog it surrounds you. 

I just had a very close friend pass away in a similar way to AJ. My own grief for the loss of my husband is now compounded with the loss of this dear friend who in many ways was like a mama to me. And the emotions flood in…

The thing that hits me first is how exhausting grief is. Grief shows no partiality. Grief doesn’t respect time or busyness. Grief demands our hearts. Perhaps this is healthy because when we feel, even if it’s feeling pain, we are more aware of life. 

It’s ironic how death somehow illuminates life. Death illuminates the preciousness of life, the fragility of life and makes me want to be more alive. Through its lens it’s easier to see the gift we’ve been given to be alive today. To love well today. To really see those around us. To do whatever we can to be peacemakers and hope bringers - to make this world a better place as long as we have breath for today. 

So today I embrace the grief. 

I take hope from the rhythms of the sun. Even though it’s beauty dissipates into darkness, in rest and time its warmth rises again to illuminate a fresh day bearing with it fresh hope and potential for what lies ahead. Again and again it persists in its rising. The setting, though in the moment boasts its finality, is never the end. It’s beauty returns, painting the sky to bid us each a ‘good morning.’ 

So while I feel the burden today of the sun setting on lives I so deeply cherish… I have hope that the morning will soon come again with all it’s beauty and assurance, inviting us forward into another day, another chance to live and love well as long as we have the gift of breath in our lungs. Loving not out of fear but out of freedom because we have been given the gift of today. 

The reality that it’s been 15 years, yet the grief still feels fresh, is helping me embrace the understanding that grief will be with me the rest of my life. This grief is a part of who I am, but this ache is a small price to pay for the gift I had of life with AJ. So I carry this weight because this weight - this grief - born from loving AJ and loosing AJ - has stretched me. It has grown the capacity of my heart to love.

My hope is that my sharing my journey helps you lean in with love to those around you better too.  You have been given the gift of this time with those you love as long as it’s called today.

So love well, it is a gift to love. Hold on tight to it. Give extra hugs...