Just So Much

You are loved. Just so much.

I’ve had a rough few weeks. Grief is never an easy once-and-done. The depth and width, height and length of “the journey in and through” is usually overwhelming.

Just so much. So much for the emotional body – oh, that heart! Lots to allow to be there, to feel… and many of us are so darn good at pushing feelings into the corner and telling them, “I’ll be back later… when it’s a better time.”

Just so much. So much for the intellectual body – oh, that brain! Thinking and thinking, trying to figure it out, make sense of stuff. But is there? Is there creating a neat box in which to house grief, stick it on a shelf and say, “ah, I get it now”?

Just so much. So much for the physical body – oh, that body! Feeling emotions, processing into the nervous system the bigness of dying, death, sadness, grief, anger, relief, fear, loss. Overwhelm for sure.

I think that grief and loss is very much a part of our everyday lives… more, perhaps, than we’d like to admit or acknowledge. So much an integral thread of the tapestry. Is there any life without death?

A good friend of mine died suddenly.

Daughter lost her cat of 14 years.

SecondSon has announced he is moving away.

These events are rocking my world, dude. Big time… I find myself pondering:

Did Barbara know that I loved her insatiable curiosity and willingness to try new things? Was she aware that I loved how she listened and considerately responded? Oh, how she could hold space… did I tell her that? Did I say, “hey, friend, you are a rock star at creating safe space… thanks for that. And here’s a hug, by the way.”

Did Daughter feel like I listened well as she mourned, recalling the difficulty of the last decision on that last day of Esther’s life? Did Daughter feel held? Did she feel I honored her grief enough? Was I sure to hug more than try to fix something that could never be mended?

Did SecondSon know how proud I am of him? Did he think, “wow, Mom thinks I’m amazing! Brave! Insightful!” Did I express my admiration for his adventurous spirit bigly enough?

Sigh.

Probably not. I am one of those who gets stuck in my head, thinking and thinking… forgetting to share those thoughts, neglecting to wrap arms around us, look deeply into eyes. Breathe into this moment.

But I’m becoming more aware of this… which is why I asked Husband to make a sign for me that says YOU ARE LOVED. He did. We hung it on the side of our house where passersby can get an eyeful of it. And hopefully a heartful of it too.

Life is complicated. Things happen. People are busy, preoccupied, and on their own journeys of awakening, healing, unlearning and relearning. Remembering their wholeness and holiness. Yeah, we’re a messy bunch.

And life is simple. In the midst of the busy-ness, misunderstandings, disappointments, grief, and death… there is still life. And living. Living in and through and on… because we love.

Grief is love’s souvenir. It’s our proof that we once loved. Grief is the receipt we wave in the air that says to the world: Look! Love was once mine. I love well. Here is my proof that I paid the price.

Glennon Doyle, Love Warrior

I love Barbara. Just so much.

I love Daughter. And that goofball cat of hers too. Just so much.

I love SecondSon. Even if he’s far away. Just so much.

Because life is unpredictable and I’m not sure when we’ll meet up again, I want you to know that you are loved. You matter to me, to us, to the world. If I neglected to say it aloud – because the words stay in the back of my throat some days, little whispers too shy to come out and play – let me assure you bigly here and now: you are loved.

I’m sorry that love comes with grief, grief with love and it’s just so much! And in some seasons of the journey, it sucks. Sucks the energies right out, leaving us feeling deflated, listless, grappling, exhausted.

But I wouldn’t trade those memories of long-winding, twisty-turning discussions with Barbara. If it means having known her, I’ll pay the price.

I wouldn’t trade those memories of watching Daughter fall in love with Esther and spend BFF time together. If it means watching that flower bloom, I’ll pay the price.

I wouldn’t trade those memories of SecondSon finally learning how to walk… only to walk away. And even if that walk is far away, I’ll pay the price.

Grief is proof that we have loved. Yes, loved. Just so much.

If you’re experiencing this “just so much” love-with-grief season, here’s a hug. Let me tell you that I see you, I feel you, and you’re doing it. You’re venturing in and through and onto… and I can’t be more inspired by you.

Edgy, joyful, pondering…

Lisa ❤

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