We have been granted the fortune of love, and the tragedy of loss. The the journey ahead and the answers we may find are unique, but the common place where we all meet is the necessity of exploring and grasping the nature and conditions of our grief. An alarming prospect. But no more than the danger of looking away. Despite all the chaos and confusion, we find the correct answers by looking in. We know something died, but may ignore something is alive still. In the exhausting struggle to avoid pain, we may be causing more and more.

A fragment of grief

Anguish spurs from the absence of a beloved person in our lives. The departure has brought the end of the cherished relationship, tearing apart something inside us. What exactly pains? The absence of unique interactions, a smile, all the shared memories. No. Not only what was, but also what would never be, and the directionless love, formidable yet without object. There is an attenuation of the world. We water the flowers, but the colors keep fading away. Black or white, the decision does not matter. We have a wildfire inside of us, and still, we feel cold. We feel so much and so little.

Looking for salvation

For each nature and circumstance, there is a way of grieving. Pain might take the shape of blame, guilt, tears, isolation, or even the inability to process what is happening, what we feel, or anything. We search for extinguishing at whatever expense the suffocating flame. We venture into the world searching for answers, and answers we will find. Their effectiveness is questionable, nonetheless. If not out, the resolution must be in. However, how are we supposed to look inside when there is so much noise? What if amputating our grief implies severing part of ourselves?

Two sides of the same coin

“Something died inside of me” is a common way to describe in a few words a world falling apart. However, how could something dead hurt so much? There is no doubt something with roots in our chest has been yanked. Part of us might have withered, but the other is alive, and grieving. Such thing is the love in our chest, palpable, even if deprived of direction, turned sour, in agony, the one we have the intent to exile. Recognizing such a relation is vital for making sense of grief. In this light, a decision is in our hands: preserving this love to watch its metamorphosis, or turning our backs on it.

Alteration of who we are

Regardless of the will to protect the blaze or not, this unique human being will have a long-lasting effect on us, a permanent shift. We might encounter such changes in acquired mannerisms, habits, tastes, ways of reacting, perceiving the world, feeling, and loving. Memories may be forgotten, through natural cause or prompted, objects may be destroyed, and years may pass. But, until air stops coming in and out of our lungs, a piece will remain within us, along with a timeless scar.

The courage to feel

We might find solace in experiencing this pain as a reflection of the love that dear person inspired and appreciating the impact their existence caused. Nevertheless, we must learn about certain aspects of this experience because it may not be the last. If we wish to love, the pain that follows must be accepted. To the same extent we can feel joy, we feel sorrow. Our skin, tender and sensitive, is prone to bruises, burns, and cuts. Were we to toughen it, turn it stonelike, we would not have to worry about the flame, or being hurt in any way. Not without losing the ability to feel a caress in the process.