Monday Morning Musing: Is Everything [just] Grief?

It comes with the territory - that so many people who arrive in my office or inbox or voicemail and want to talk to their pastor bring their Grief along. Sometimes it sits in the corner, patiently waiting until it is revealed that really, this is the reason they needed someone to talk to. Sometimes Grief throws open the door and paces wildly around the room, fairly keening and crowing. And sometimes Grief waits in the hallway while the person speaks of everything else: the weather and their childhood and their job and their families and the weather and politics and the book they've just read. And the weather. Again. When the person leaves, Grief just follows them like a stalker back out into the world.

Grief also dresses up like Fear sometimes. Or like Confusion. Or like Doubt. Grief is a chameleon in that way.

Today is the anniversary of my Beloved's mother's death. Just two years ago. We sit at the table that was hers, the one that my Beloved grew up sitting around. We eat meals from plates that belonged to her and we pour cool water from her pitcher and we remember. That love and joy and laughter can also be a part of Grief.

Grief isn't just about the death of people but it is always about loss. Loss that's already happened or will happen soon. Loss that scares us and loss that lingers at the edges.

The poet Mary Oliver writes often of Grief. So do lots of poets. So, do lots of ordinary folks, like this writer. For this day, a word from Mary Oliver, then:

For Tom Shaw S.S.J.E. (1945-2014)

Where has this cold come from?

"It comes from the death of your friend."

Will I always, from now on, be this cold?

"No, it will diminish.

But always it will be with you."

What is the reason for it?

"Wasn't your friendship always as beautiful

as a flame?"