This is a grief blog. The pages intended for sharing the hard journey of stitching oneself together anew after things fall apart. However, grief feels distant this morning. My little family (read: the boys and me) is on a summer vacation. We’re staying with friends in a house perched on a bay filled with boats. They’ve opened their home, lives and lifestyle and we’re reveling in the timeless days of sunshine, water, food and excellent company. The pause is lovely.
These friends know grief. They’ve lost children and parents. They’ve left countries of origin and found new homes. They’ve created change and have been at the mercy of its whims. Still they delight in the details of everyday. They linger over espresso, morning walks, swims in the bay’s cool water and indulge in dessert frequently. They search for the good without ignoring the bad.
I’m kneeling at the feet of their outlook as a student of life. I’m taking notes with the intention of bring the lesson home. Two things can exist at once. Sometimes the best we can do is try to tip the scales a smidgen towards the positive, beautiful, meaningful and harmonious.
*photo courtesy of Cristofer Jeschke on Unsplash
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