This year is a blur.
The 29 months since my mother fell and broke her shoulder are a blur.
In the blur, there are facts.
My mother died.
My 14 year old soul dog died.
I lost my mother’s home.
I lost my blood family.
My mother’s 19 year old dog died.
My 3 year old cat died.
I lost my president.
I lost my job.
I lost another home.
Facts. Chapter Headings. Mile Markers.
When I look at those facts, I am numb. Still.
And yet, not completely.
Because running through the numbness, pulsing, sometimes quietly, sometimes gushing like arterial blood from a wound, is one constant: Gratitude.
On October 3, 1863, President Abraham Lincoln, in an address written by Secretary of State William Seward, invited his “fellow citizens… to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November… as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise…”
In the midst of a civil war no less.
It may seem a paradox, in the midst of grief and loss, to find gratitude, but what better time is there, really? When is the sanctity of peace more precious than during war? The security of home more sweet than in its absence? When is the wonder of life more obvious than in the presence of death?
Gratitude in grief is not simply a matter of “You don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone”. It’s deeper than that. More complex. And yet so simple. If we have the patience and the courage to sit with our grief, to wander with open eyes through its panoply of emotions and experiences, we cannot help but grow, we have no choice but to evolve.
Gratitude is the grace that makes that evolution possible. Without gratitude, evolution becomes devolution.
So, let us be grateful. For every death, every loss, every blow we have endured as individuals, as families, as a nation in this past year. Let us be thankful for homes lost and found, for families born and made, for beings living and dead.
If you are reading this, know that I am thankful for you. All of us meet in the grief that brings us to these words. I am grateful for your presence, silent or spoken, grateful for the hand you offer, seen and unseen, as we make our way to who and what we are supposed to be.
Bless you. Thank you.