Grief and Gratitude

Maybe we all have graveyards tucked into a corner of our hearts.

Places we can visit when the desire strikes. To celebrate and mourn what and who we’ve left behind...

My current WIP is a novel that deals heavily with grief.

Writing it has made me dive deeper into my own grief—into the parts of myself I’ve lost over the years, the people who’ve left (both my life and this world), the dreams and plans that were meant for another life, and the promises that couldn’t be.

Whether I initially come to that graveyard with heartache, a happy memory, or anger, the more honest I am, the better the visits go.

I’ve also found that visiting these ghosts always gives me a gift, too.

Because, when I leave that cemetery behind, I always come back with clarity.

And gratitude.

For this life I’m still living. For the people I still have. For the dreams that did grow. For the version of me that exists today.

Maybe we all face a thousand deaths in our lives, big and small, each one shaping who we become. Maybe that’s how it’s supposed to be. Maybe grief is more than pain for what we’ve lost.

Maybe grief is a gift. Like love exploding out of a heart with nowhere to go.

So now, I pull it back into my heart. I still visit the graves, feel the grief, find the clarity, and land again with gratitude. But then I walk out, pointing that love in a new direction—toward myself, toward the beauty still with me.

Then, I get to watch that grief become a love that settles in my heart like a spring rain on new blooms.

Clarity.