Grief That Can Be Carried

Reading time: approx. 3 - 4 min

A good friend of mine recently said: "This year is so intense internally. There is a lot of inner work happening right now." 

Yes, how true those words are. That is exactly how it feels for me too. At the same time, I see it as a profound privilege to be able to accept, examine, and move through these inner processes in the first place. Once you make it to the other side, you know yourself a little bit better, and you carry that gift deep within your soul.

Even so, a heavy grief is currently resting on my shoulders. I carry it, yet I wasn't truly aware of its full weight. Where does it come from, and what is it perhaps trying to bring into my life? This is something I am trying to explore and sit with. Feeling things deeply is something I always thought I was actually quite good at. But lo and behold, this year seems to be teaching me otherwise. Or maybe it is simply teaching me to look even deeper inside myself? To look with a clearer vision—because our inner life isn't always as transparent as a mountain lake where you can see all the way to the bottom.

An old acquaintance—or may I say, an old friend of mine—passed away recently. A year before his death, he called me and asked if I could carve a wooden bear for his funeral. He was already planning everything back then because he had received a diagnosis that left very little hope for a cure. For many years, we hadn't been in close contact, but it always brought me joy whenever we crossed paths or heard from each other. During his final year, we exchanged a handful of voice messages. He always looked forward to the longer ones because, as he said, they gave him a cheerful and welcome distraction while he was in the hospital.

Then, one day, the news of his passing. Just like that. Out of nowhere. Of course, we all knew this day would come eventually, but when it actually happens, it always brings a completely unique, surreal feeling. I couldn't bring myself to tell anyone for an entire day. And I didn't even realize I was doing it. It was only the next day, when I started sharing the news with the people around me, that a part of me noticed how strange it was. What was the reason I held it in? Was it the heartache itself?

Every now and then, I picture grief as a grandmotherly figure. Or as a massive, ancient tree. In any case, something deeply rooted in the earth. Something that holds you in a loving embrace and gives you roots when the ground is pulled out from under your feet. Someone who is simply there, even when it hurts like hell to actually feel that embrace. Maybe the heartache just stood silently beside me at first. Or maybe it was already embracing me, and I stood there like a block of ice. A block of ice not yet ready to feel, out of fear of what else might surface.

This friend who passed away is someone I would describe as life in its purest form. Vibrant, loving, joyful, and beautifully chaotic, with a massive dose of positivity. On top of that, he was incredibly imaginative and deeply rooted in his faith. I find it fascinating to know people like that. And the sense of melancholy that lingers now probably comes from the fact that these qualities feel as though they have vanished. They seemed so tightly bound to him as a person, and now they are no longer present in this world in the same way.. at least, no longer tied to that one soul who distributed them so freely.

"I hope that when I leave this world, I'll have left something meaningful behind... do you know what I mean?" Those were his words during one of our conversations, and I remember vividly how surprised I was that there was even a tiny, quiet shadow of doubt in him. A person with those qualities, who so fully embodied and radiated life, leaves footprints no matter what. We all do. Perhaps it is more a question of the manner in which we choose to do it. And so, his passing also left a kind of grief in me regarding this fundamental question. Am I living in a way that stays true to my own qualities? And what exactly are they?

So, grief can obviously show us that there are far more facets to our inner selves than we ever assumed. And if we happen to live in a way that goes against our inner nature, then perhaps the heartache has to hold onto us even tighter just to be there for us. 

How incredibly sad must that be for grief itself?

I dedicate this little reflection to my old friend, who is now resting in peace. And to grief, with all its new perspectives. Even if they are hidden deep beneath the surface, it is still possible to rediscover them. If you are willing to dive a little deeper.

Rest in peace

Thank you for reading! 

I feel it is important to share these moments, as they are often an essential part of the artistic background behind a piece of work. If this insight touched something inside you, please take this thought with you into your day.