While I may not be good at consistently writing on this space, I have been pretty good in curating pieces from the web that have struck a chord in me, touched my heart, or pretty much made me nod my head in agreement. I have to be honest – reading some of these stuff I am going to share, things that were written with their hearts on their fingertips, makes me want to try and do the same (and be intimidated and just overwhelmed and sick with why-would-I-even-write-they-can-write-what-I-feel-and-do-it-better).
Until I am done with the internal war inside my head, and in my heart, let these writings on the web help you, in whatever way and form.
“Your greatest ministry will flow out of your pain — not out of your strengths or your talents but out of the painful experiences of your life. It is your weaknesses that help other people in their need, not your strengths.”
(Dont Waste Your Pain – Warren)
On Grief:
“Grief, after all, is the price we pay for love.”
That’s when I finally accepted that trying to protect her was not only wrong, it was impossible. Grief, after all, is the price we pay for love.
Grief is a normal and healthy experience after loss. But so is resilience. Over the years an interesting change in grief therapy has been the emphasis on resilience; the awareness that people normally find healthy ways to adapt and live with loss. That’s not to say it’s a quick and easy task. It’s not that grieving suddenly ends and the person forgets and moves on. No, what happens is that a weight that initially feels unbearable becomes, in time, manageable. The grief becomes compact enough, with the hard edges removed, to be gently placed in one’s heart.
On Dealing with Loss:
Sheryl Sandberg might just be my new hero. She suffered the tragic sudden loss of her husband, and the way she has dealt with pain is inspiring, and so.spot.on.
I have learned that I never really knew what to say to others in need. I think I got this all wrong before; I tried to assure people that it would be okay, thinking that hope was the most comforting thing I could offer. A friend of mine with late-stage cancer told me that the worst thing people could say to him was “It is going to be okay.” That voice in his head would scream, How do you know it is going to be okay? Do you not understand that I might die? I learned this past month what he was trying to teach me. Real empathy is sometimes not insisting that it will be okay but acknowledging that it is not. When people say to me, “You and your children will find happiness again,” my heart tells me, Yes, I believe that, but I know I will never feel pure joy again. Those who have said, “You will find a new normal, but it will never be as good” comfort me more because they know and speak the truth. Even a simple “How are you?”—almost always asked with the best of intentions—is better replaced with “How are you today?” When I am asked “How are you?” I stop myself from shouting, My husband died a month ago, how do you think I am? When I hear “How are you today?” I realize the person knows that the best I can do right now is to get through each day.
On Moving Forward:
“Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.”
—Mary Elizabeth Frye
Tell your story, then live it.
This article hit the nail on the head. Sometimes we really can practice foresight by placing ourselves in the future and thinking things on hindsight.
Take a moment to ask yourself: what will I see when I look back?
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