What you don’t know, I wish you would never have to, for you will be forever changed, and not in any way you would desire to change. On the flip side, I wish you comprehension of what could be, and perhaps it might change the way your are. I have a dear friend who often uses this benediction, “Life is Short, and we know not how long our journey will be….” It is the truest cliche there is. One of my best friends the other day, upon knowing it would have been my Dad’s birthday, and that it is almost one year since I lost both parents said, “I can’t imagine”. And the reality is that noone can. It will change who you are. My Dad taught me about optimism, my mom was a pretty joyful person, so my answer to “How are you?” had previously always been “Good!” My answer for many months after their passing was ‘okay’….it was the best I could muster out in response to that question. 

What does not show is that grief is like that path of water flowing under the thin layer of winter ice upon a creek, it just flows and rumbles beneath the surface. It may have a gentle sound, but occasionally, but when the water breaks through the ice, a refuge is needed and necessary. Sadly, it hits you at the most random times. It might be someone talking about the ‘sandwich’ situation they are in with little ones at home and a parent moving into assisted care, it might be a colleague responding to your ask about her recent trip sharing that she surprised her Dad on his birthday in Florida; it could be rushing to pick up a ’10 year old’ birthday card and then your eye catches the ‘Happy Birthday, Dad’ cards in the next section. Sudden realizations of things you will never get to do now, in this new normal. An underlying sadness, ready to come to the fore front and odd and random times. 

A few times I would get angry with myself for these random releasing of tears….people saying, “are you okay?” “No, dammit, I’m crying, I’m NOT okay. I. AM. GRIEVING.” In those times I would just visualize my bed, and my covers, and want to be there NOW. And other times, it was different, and I discovered this: You can also trust people more than you expected. Colleagues at work have now become friends because I can talk to them about my loss. I was terrified heading back to school in the fall that I would have a random outpouring of tears at an inconvenient time – there is, in fact, few private places in my school. I shared that with a few other teachers in the fall, and they offered their support however I needed it. And one day, I did. Right before the bell, right before I had to greet a class of twent-five 9 year olds, and tears were running down my face. And their teacher, my friend, said, ‘take what you need, I will be here until you are ready’. (I teach music, and am also planning time relief for the classroom teacher) You will find empathy from those you don’t expect. 

So what I would tell you, if I could address you, is partially found in the rest of that benediction: “Life is short, and we know not how long our journey will be; so let us be quick to love, and hasten always to kindness.” Things that are a big deal to you now, will not be as significant once you are forever changed. Things you may have felt compelled to fight for before, may now just be accepted with a resignation you did not used to have. Your perceptions will change, and sometimes, that might be a good thing. The topic of conversations you have with others may seem less significant, now. You may be able to hold the ones you love gently and tenderly. Share with them your love, your words, let them know how they impact your life. Talk to them. Find time, time in this hectic, fast paced world to be with those you love. Hasten always to kindness. People will do that for you, start early for them, do it now, be there, be present, be kind. For it is not their fault they don’t know. Tell them, let them know. For what does not show cannot be imagined, cannot be interpreted. The empathy of others, though, might shed some light on you, and on them.