Is Grief the Price We Pay for Love?

I think a lot of us have probably heard that saying. Something along the lines of "grief is our proof that we loved." For me, that saying ranks right up there with "everything happens for a reason."

I'm not a fan. Personally, I'd rather have my husband here and just tell everyone I love him. That seems much easier.

This was the subject of a recent podcast I was listening to with Glennon Doyle. To be honest, I haven't read any of her books and when I first started listening to her I wondered if I would have anything in common with her. But she was one of the first adults I'd ever heard speak about how she was a sensitive child and how that always made her feel like the black sheep in her family. And that I understood, but didn't realize anyone else felt that way.

So, she got my attention.

In the podcast I was listening to she said this:

"Grief is love's souvenir. It's our proof that we once loved. Grief is the receipt we wave in the air that says to the world: Look! Love was once mine. I love well. Here is my proof that I paid the price."

Again, if I'm going to have a souvenir, I'd really rather my husband be here and for us to be wearing "I'm with stupid" sweatshirts or something. 

Later in the podcast she started talking about embracing pain. Seriously? If I could, I would run from it as fast as I could - and I'm not a runner. This body was not built for speed. But pain is something that I fear in myself and, even more, I fear witnessing in other people (especially my children). I want to fix whatever is happening and move forward as quickly as possible. And if I can't fix, I want to numb.

But she brought up a good point. I'm going to paraphrase here, so if you want to listen to what she really said, click here for the podcast. When talking to a mother who expressed her wish to keep her son from feeling pain, Glennon asked her, "What kind of person do you want your son to be?"

"I want him to be kind and wise," said the mother.

"How do you think he gets that way? From experiencing pain." 

Hmmmm. That's a thinker.

Solomon Says

Yesterday I was at church and the pastor was talking about the many devastating things that have been happening - especially here in Colorado in the last month or so. He quoted Ecclesiastes and said, "For with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more knowledge, the more grief."

In other words, the more experience you have, the more sorrow you'll experience.

But, sorry Solomon, I just have to reverse this for a minute. Because I believe that "with much sorrow comes much wisdom." I would say that the people who participate and follow the Widow Chick page are some of the kindest and wisest people I know. And while I know we all wish we could have gained that wisdom by wearing that "I'm with stupid" sweatshirt while standing next to our spouses, at least wisdom is something we can get out of this sorrow.

I would say that if you refuse to learn something from this pain, if you refuse to allow it to make you a kinder, wiser person, then you never got your souvenir - you've left the experience empty-handed. Our stories and the stories of our loved ones are our legacies. 

And as Glennon Doyle said, "Grief and pain are like joy and peace; they are not things we should try to snatch from each other. They're sacred. they are part of each person's journey. All we can do is offer relief from this fear: I am all alone. That's the one fear you can alleviate."