| Dear John, I looked out the window and breathed a sigh of relief at not seeing any construction vehicles in the driveway. It’s been nearly a year since we started work on the garage and now that it’s done, I’ll miss the crew but welcome a quiet summer. As things have settled, I can feel grief slipping into my consciousness throughout the day. Having been preoccupied with construction and settling affairs, I knew the need to tend to so many losses last year was just a matter of time. That’s because grief has a way of lurking on the sidelines of life, waiting patiently for a chance to step in and be acknowledged with presence and attention. And while it can be painful to do so, it has its blessings, too. Yesterday, as I drove by the reservoir near our home, I thought about how my Mom had taken this ride with me just last year. As I recalled our visit, I pulled off the road to let myself cry. When I looked up, I saw a mute swan with two young cygnets gliding across the water, the sunlight’s reflection leaving a trail of stars in their wake. This is what grief does, I thought to myself as awe filled the car. It guides us back to the moment and opens a door to the beauty in everyday life. Yes, grief magnifies beauty. Grief is also a teacher that can lead us toward wholeness. Each time I yearn for a loved one, I also pay attention to what I long for. That’s because the people in our lives often host qualities that are underdeveloped in us. When they die, we don’t just lose their love; we lose the reflection of these qualities that must be reclaimed. For example, my father-in-law was a fierce protector and provider for his family. He took risks that few would to ensure his loved ones felt safe and secure. When I miss him, I know I need to reclaim some of his courage and confidence so I can keep moving beyond my comfort zone. My friend Ileen had an exuberant enthusiasm for life. Upon finishing breakfast, she would launch into an animated discussion about where we might go for dinner. She’d turn a simple grocery store run into an exciting adventure to find her favorite gum. And when she met someone new, she couldn’t wait to discover the genius that lived below the surface. When I miss her, I know I need to elevate my curiosity, step out into life more, and reclaim some of her zest for living. My Mother loved people. She showed up for everyone, regardless of differences, and without judgment. Her family, the wait staff at a restaurant, her hairdresser, her kids’ friends – all experienced a quality of unconditional love that made them feel seen and cared for. When I’m missing my Mom, I know it’s a reminder to let my guard down, to see more of the goodness in people, to show up for them and for myself. As the dust settles and the lazy days of summer unfold, I look forward to tender times and a bit of rest. I can sense that a new kind of renovation is underway, and I’m curious and excited to see what unfolds. Love,
Cheryl
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