Grief is the lover who gives
And gives
And gives
And waits
And does not receive
And dies of starvation.
Grief is why the widow —
Who once slept peaceful
In her lover's arms;
Who once had dreams
Instead of memories;
Who once caressed
Her lover's cheek and lips,
Lost in cosmic wonder —
Cannot eat more than
A spoonful of soup.
Grief is
Going home without,
And never again
Going out with home.
Tag: sadness
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Grief Is
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Enebrimēsato
In this world, there are places with God and places without God. That is for a very good reason. If there were no places without God, we would have nowhere to run from him.
For God’s love to be real, we must have the freedom to refuse it, to refuse him. It’s not true love if it’s not a gift, and it’s not a gift unless it can be refused. If we couldn’t refuse it, it would be an imposition, not a gift.
God makes his love a gift by giving us places to go where his love is not, where he is not. But a place without God, the source of all life, is a place with death. Death is the cost of a world where love exists.
Because we are loved, death is a part of this world.
Today, Catholics celebrate Passion Sunday, in which we remember Christ being deeply troubled upon seeing his friend, Mary of Bethany, weeping.
In John 11:33, Christ’s behavior is described with an intense Greek word, enebrimēsato, that translates to something like “he snorted in spirit.” Christ groaned from the depths of his soul, like a sobbing child, upon seeing the pain that death has caused his friend. He grieves at the pain caused by loving imperfect lovers.
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Cling
I sat down with her.
"Can you separate from me?"
She started to peel herself away,
But she didn’t.
She wanted to,
And she didn’t.
"I think you want to,
But you’re clinging.
You can separate
If you want."
She clung.
I smiled.
My depression clung.
And I realized she
Was exactly what
I desperately wanted,
Someone to stay,
Someone to cling. -
Is It Really Anger or Just Pain?
When I’m upset, I often keep it to myself. I take a walk in the woods, hoping to work through my feelings. But sometimes, even the quiet of nature can’t untangle my thoughts.
On one of these walks, I found myself ruminating on how others respond when I try to express my feelings. My frustration deepened. I didn’t just feel hurt. I felt hurt about their negative reactions to my feelings. I resented how often my emotions were dismissed, as though being upset was somehow a mistake.
I desperately needed that walk. I thought, What if, instead of telling me I’m wrong to feel this way, people could see my negative emotions for what they really are: calls for help?
How different would life feel if emotions—anger, sadness, frustration—were seen as what they often are: pleas for understanding? If others responded with care instead of dismissal, maybe those feelings wouldn’t linger so long or feel so overwhelming. Maybe I wouldn’t feel the need to suppress them or second-guess myself. And maybe I’d feel a little more at ease.
Then it hit me: I was being hypocritical.
I was angry at them for their negative reactions to my negative emotions. I was frustrated by their invalidation, but wasn’t my own anger just as reactive? I saw the same cycle in myself: meeting what felt like an injustice with frustration, judgment, and withdrawal.
I realized that my negative emotions were often just reactions to someone else’s pain. And maybe their behavior—the one I found so disagreeable—wasn’t malicious at all. Maybe it was their own unspoken plea for help.
What if, when I get angry, I paused to consider this? What if I saw their behavior and wondered: What wound or struggle might be behind this?
Negative behaviors—anger, impatience, even withdrawal—are often rooted in unhealed wounds or unmet needs. What if we saw those behaviors for what they are? What if we responded with a little more kindness and effort to understand each other?
Maybe the world wouldn’t change overnight. But it might become just a little bit gentler.