Good grief

I was thinking about grief. I’ve grieved much in my four decades on this planet. My sister’s death in high school, my father, my father in law, my beloved cat Leopold Bloom, and my child that never was (at least not in this life).

When I really focus on it, I realize that grief is good. But for the overwhelming grief at my father’s death, I would never have decided to change my trajectory and leave the big firm life for a career as a deputy public defender.

Grief can motivate. I began writing to relieve the grief and pain of my childhood and my sadness motivated me to write my feelings out. That was the greatest gift of all. Because while I can’t sing a note or play piano, I can express myself in literary prose and always have been able to. So, thank you God for that one.

Grief makes one re-examine one’s choices. It makes you think about why we were put on this planet. I love hedonism as much as anyone, perhaps more than most, but grief made me realize that a hedonistic lifestyle is just escaping life, not living it.

Ultimately, I think what I am trying to express is that grief is part of life. We are here, along with our loved ones, for what relatively speaking is a very short time. And the pain of loss, combined with the reflection that comes along with that enduring ache, is a gift because it makes you see how important it is to live life to the fullest.

By living life to the fullest I mean enjoying the day to day moments. It is the journey that counts. Sometimes the destination is beside the point. Be in the here and now. Feel the sun on your face. Enjoy the taste of your coffee. Relish eating. Put down the phone. Don’t be a mindless drone. Take a day off and walk on the beach by yourself and savor what it means to truly be alive.

And, if you’re so inclined, play your music at full blast in the car and sing along. World be damned.