"Grief is the price we pay for love."
-Queen Elizabeth II
I was enjoying music as I often do when it struck me that I hadn’t listened to Ed Sheeran in a while. So I went to his album and chose one of my favorite songs on it. Supermarket Flowers. My dad, also a music lover, was the one who introduced me to this song. I immediately loved it. Yes it’s melancholy, but it’s beautiful. Music is about more than a beat. So I’m always here for whatever it makes me feel. I just didn’t expect to feel it in the McDonald’s drive-thru.
I experienced my first really great loss in many years this summer. Did I just quantify death? Yes. Yes I did. If we’re honest there are levels to everything… even the feelings we have for people in death. Anyway, she was an amazing woman. An elder, a mentor and also my friend. My dear friend. So I’m listening to this song and then I feel that thing in my throat and the sting in my eye right after I ordered hotcakes for Blake. “Are you gonna cry, Stephanie? Yes, and there’s nothing I can do about it.” File that exchange under conversations with myself. Lyrically, the song is just… Whew!
“A heart that’s broke is a heart thats been loved”
“And I know that when God took you back he said Hallelujah. You’re home.”
My God!!! We’re lucky I didn’t have to call my husband to come get me from that drive-thru. There’s so much to unpack in the first lyric. We have to pay a price; don’t we? If we love wholly and are loved wholly when that love ends it’s gonna hurt. And it’s gonna hurt badly. Knowing what I know about that hard truth I’m still gonna love hard as I can. Because those 12 years we had together… even just the last 3 or 4… they were worth every single time I’ve picked up the phone forgetting she wouldn’t be there on the other end… worth every tear I was able to swallow back and worth every one that leapt from my eyelid and ran down my cheek. Love is always worth it. Even with its’ sometimes shitty expiration date.
As we lumber towards the most joyous time of the year. We must be aware that what brings joy to others may usher in a very real pain for others. I try to be mindful of this every year, but especially this year when I am missing my friend. When her loving husband, children, grandchildren and other friends are thinking about what this new normal is going to be like. I cannot count the number of people I have seen grieving great losses this year. It lead me to think… what can I do to help? What can we do to help?
Checking in on friends who are grieving is a great way to let them know they are not alone. After all, loneliness, the feeling that no one understands is a large part of grief. And it’s true. We don’t understand and we shouldn’t assert such. The loss of my grandmother is not the same as the loss of yours. It is disrespectful to claim understanding. Instead, ask: What can I do? Would you like some company? Do you have plans for the holiday? Do you wanna hang with me? Also, this isn't about you. Realize that you could offer yourself up as a soft place to land and your offer may get declined. Respect that.
All sorts of emotions get stirred up during the holiday season. Be there for who you can when you can. And in the middle of it all remember to live the life you’ve been given as completely as possible. For me, that’s how we truly honor those who have gone on before us. And listen, love is a verb. Love those you say you love. When it’s over it’s over. As for my friend, I know when God took her back He said, Hallelujah. I know she’s home— and that…. that brings me joy. Give love. Be loved. Live this life fully. Choose you. Until next time…. Merry Christmas. Love y’all.
I’m not here because I’m an expert. I’m here because I have experiences.