Grief is the price we pay for love

This evening, I am replete.  Full of love from my family, full of appreciation for our health, life and love, full of gratitude for a day that was a super Sunday for Mother’s Day and far cry from the previous 2.

 

Rather than being empty from grief and loss, as I felt In the month after my Mum died, when all I wanted was to be held and made a fuss of, but was ignored;   Rather than being empty from grief and loss, as I felt in the confusion after my life fell apart, when all I wanted was to mend my broken heart, but was scared;  this year, I am full.

 

This year, I am full of making happy memories and future plans.

 

Grief is the price we pay for love and I wouldn’t trade 40 years of love, for any less grief.

 

Pain and suffering are also the price we pay for love.  And as we strip back our house to its basics, remove the overgrowth, the embellishments of the façade, it is left bare, exposed and vulnerable.  And that is a painful process; I can almost hear the roots of the ivy and hedges squeal, and the surprise of the passers by…  but the rawness shines in the new pathways of light. And so our home continues to be a metaphor for a relationship that has been broken and stripped back to basics, but stronger for its rawness, exposure and simplicity.

 

And so in some way, perhaps I wouldn’t trade the last few years of growth for any less grief….

 

As always, life provides us conundrums, choices and decisions.  It is simply just a question of deciding…

 

decide

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