Beauty of grief

 Grief is real and it is hard and it is sneaky. It creeps in when you least expect it and smacks you upside the head, but if you pause for a second, there is beauty in there too.  Ok, before you think I've lost my mind, hear me out.

The end of September I had the glorious opportunity to visit a women's monastery for a retreat. The monastery, like most monasteries (I assume), has a cemetery on the grounds. During our visit one of the sisters offered to take anyone interested on a tour of the grounds. Although I had been before, it had been many years so I chose to take the tour. The sister did a beautiful job of showing us the gardens, the animals, and the children's garden, but the cemetery really hit me in a way that I never expected. While we were standing there, the sister guiding us mentioned that the full moon that night would offer a glorious opportunity to visit the cemetery in a different light. This settled in a spot on my heart that simply would not be shaken. So that evening, after the evening vigil service, I walked down the gravel path and stood in the moonlight amongst those laid to rest in that peaceful place. My parents are not laid to rest there, but as I stood there I felt like they were standing beside me. The moment rushed over me and I began to weep. Not cry, but weep. I stood there, in the quiet, letting all the emotion in me flow until I was empty. As my eyes dried and I began to take deep breaths, I realized that I didn't feel empty any more. I was filled with joy and love and the beauty of those who had come before me. I was no longer weeping from the fact that my parents are gone, I was now crying soft joyful tears as I remembered how much love there is in my life. My family is a wide variety of rather large personalities and truly we are a little extra (as the kids would say), but the love that is our foundation comes from those who came before us. This is the beauty of grief. It's not that sadness can be erased by remembering that my parents, grandparents and so many other loved ones are in a better place (as so many people say), it's the fact that sadness allows me to remember how loved I am. Please know that I am not downplaying that sadness at all. It sweeps me off my feet at times and makes me weep like it was yesterday, but if I let myself go through that holding tight to the faith and love that I have surrounding me then the emptiness can be filled by the memories that are warm and comforting. 

After my solo visit to the cemetery, I returned to the guest house and mentioned to some of the Monastery Pilgrims traveling with me what an amazing experience it was to visit the cemetery in the moonlight. This spurred a second walk down that gravel path with those amazing women. As we stood there, one of the women suggested we sing "Memory Eternal" and we did. I cried, again, but I also became even more aware of the fact that each of those who came before me are honored by my tears and my joy. That is a moment that has brought me comfort on several occasions since then. It was real, it was natural and it was sincere. It was beautiful. 

The Orthodox church speaks of joyful sorrow. I have always thought I knew what that meant, but it wasn't until that night standing in the moonlight on the monastery grounds, surrounded by people I didn't even know, that I truly understood what joyful sorrow is. It was that night that I felt the true beauty of grief. 

This is the last picture taken of my parents together. While looking at it sometimes makes me sad, those smiles are warm and full of love. That is what fills me.