Grief & Gratitude: We Can't Force It

True gratitude cannot be forced.  It grows at its own pace making its appearance when its time. And working right alongside of grief, gratitude allow us to experience life in a deeper way and love well.  

Music by Scott Holmes - A Wee Tipple 
Non Copyright Music

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So this morning I was sitting on my tiny porch, sipping my cup of coffee, enjoying the cool breeze and the sound of the leaves moving in the trees. This is definitely one of my favorite ways to start the day. So I was thinking about this grief and gratitude thing. The idea that they walk together, that their stories grow right alongside of each other has caught my attention. I think what's really important to note, however, is that in their relationship is the absence of force. When my heart is experiencing deep grief, insisting on gratefulness is something like yanking on a kid's ear and pulling him towards a peer, forcing him to say thank you. It brutally ignores the fact that there's probably a good reason that kid might not have felt like saying thank you. Maybe the toy was his in the first place, and that little imp in front of him had taken it. Maybe he was done with being taken advantage of. Maybe he was just tired of everyone and wanted to go swing by himself. Who cares about the toy? No, a deep experience of gratefulness definitely cannot be forced, and grief is a heavy, thick shroud that makes it difficult for light to get through. For a while I felt no impact by any beauty or goodness around me. The pain alternating with numbness was just too great, but probably doing its work. Another way I've begun to think about the relationship between grief and gratitude is that grief is like the ground, like dirt, made up of what was once alive and now decomposing, and gratitude is that shoot of green we hope will eventually make its way through the soil, through the darkness, and eventually breaks through to the light. When surveying the ruins of what used to be a life, of what came crumbling down, whether through the loss of a job, an illness, the breaking of relationships, loss of a child, a parent, or anyone dearly loved, some betrayal or injustice, depending on how deeply we loved, or how much we thought we were in control. It tears us up, rips us out of our routine, and dashes our dreams to the ground, leaving us disoriented, reeling, and raw. To insist on gratitude then is just plain cruel. Well, Irma, you just need to look at the bright side. Really? How about the fact that your denial of the dark casts a long shadow over your ability to love people well? While I have often made the connection between the changing of seasons to the cycles of transformation that occurs within, I have to say I wasn't so sure that this time this grief was just a season. The loss in my life had cut me deeper than ever before, and it scared me to feel such a total loss of control over what occurred, to not know if I would recover or how long the process would take me. Yeah, this has been a deep darkness. I remember when I first began noticing my heart responding to goodness around me. It was like, oh, did that really happen? Did I just feel that little bit of life within me? And so this morning, I thought of one of the ways gratitude has begun growing its own story right alongside a grief. And it's been through strangers who do not treat me like a stranger. Through the truck driver I have never met who happily supplies fresh eggs, the mechanic down the road, who responded when I had been scammed and didn't know who else to turn to. For my favorite restaurant and the conversations I've had with guests, bartenders, managers, chefs, servers, and hosts, for the way they greet me when I walk in. For the car wash guy who happily greets every single person with a wave and a grin, despite having lost his leg, reminding me that there is a life to be lived, even when walking with a limp. For the chiropractor who allows his clients to set their copays according to what they can afford. And for the woman I found in the parking lot who allowed me close enough to hold her as she sobbed. Yeah, I am finding these days that I have an increased capacity for gratitude, for love, because grief has done its work. It has carved out a spaciousness within me that allows me to more deeply experience life, the kindness of others, simple beauty, and the transformation taking hold within.