Damn grief.  A gold mine for writers, some say. Some folks don’t like to talk about death or grief, but here I’m finding is exactly where living is.

Thank you, Grief.  Thank you for providing the space to really examine what matters. You’ve dumped out all the contents of my life onto this wide open space. Holding each experience, each deeply held belief, each longing, each talisman, I’m giving them room to breathe.  Does it continue to bring me life? Yes? Let’s hang onto it. No? Let it go. In reassessing life- and death- I am experiencing a freedom that I am not sure I knew was possible before I knew you.

Sometimes you’re a funny, quirky, old friend.  A companion to laugh with, recalling familiar stories of days gone by. The warmth of your presence is helpful as to not lose the memories of loved ones. Sometimes you’re a real pain in my ass. Like when you slip up behind me and knock my feet out from under me. But even then I am learning to be thankful for the opportunity to rest while I’m down. And, actually, I appreciate the change of scenery, having been offered a new perspective from down here.

Grief, you’ve made me slow down enough to notice, to pause to remember. Only then can I see the good present all along.