On Grieving

Mr. Boy died shortly after I posted a short list of his advice for me on November 20th.  Other losses have also touched me since Mr. Boy's death.  A mentor lost a father-in-law, a friend lost a father, Superman Sam whose story helped give me and Mr. Boy strength died, Peter O'Toole's death made news, and, of course, the world lost one of the most incredible humans ever when Nelson Mandela died.  With each loss, I thought I was in a place where my heart could not break more, but it seems as though compassion is unending.

I'd like to write something profound about Mr. Boy, but I think it's too soon for that.  I've been staring at a blank page for days trying to put something together for the service which will be Saturday.  But, as a trusted rabbi shared with me, there are no words.  Human language is not meant to describe grief.  We mourners are not meant to fit people, relationships, and pain into grammatical structures.  We are meant to learn how to hold the joy of love and caring and the pain of loss and absence together.  We are meant to refuse comfort, to be comforted, and to seek comfort from others (not necessarily in that order).  I am meant to reconcile the loss of my partner with the fact that I yet live.  That feeling my grief will be a part of my life in many different ways as I continue to live despite that I feel like my world has stopped.  To live with grief is to expand notions of family and community to include those who are not present.  To live with grief is to live radically - to participate in an ongoing revolution of reimagining life not based on what we planned but based on where we are.