You know those people who are bigger than life? Their energy is so big, so beautiful, so brave that it feels like they’re bursting at the seams? Like not even their own bodies can contain their beings? And so encountering them, engaging with them…it leaves a little bit of their residue on you…giving you the courage to be a little more of yourself. Those people are stars. (We all are.) Gases that burn bright. Taking up space and time in immeasurable ways. Some of us shooting through the sky before we come to an end. That was Chris - a shooting star. Not just because he was an award-winning classical pianist, or a moody lovestruck man moving through a world that wanted him to disappear. But because he smiled big before the tears he’d cried had time to dry on his beautiful face. Because he loved hard when it was easier to deny his heart. Because he danced wildly and laughed loudly in the company of friends and family as if his soul depended on it.

So, if you would’ve told me a year ago today, that within 24 hours he’d be gone, I’d be almost as shocked as I still am when I give myself enough grace to really think about it.

All week…all month, actually, I’ve been thinking about April 21st: the day of his spiritual culmination. How would I celebrate? Would I even be able to? And here I am: doing it, thoughtfully…a year later…as a partner and a mother. My life has changed so much. Through this huge loss, I’ve managed to gain. I fell in love. I endured a difficult pregnancy. I gave birth. This all happened just months after saying goodbye to my childhood best friend. Life still happened in the midst of my grief and it was the best thing that could have happened to me: all of this at once.

It helped me to learn that only through grief, can we gain the capacity for a greater gratitude. One of my, my partner and Mandela’s favorites, the late, great Celia Cruz once said, “Ríe, llora…vive tu vida y gózala toda.” (Translation: Laugh, cry…live your life and enjoy it all.)

I’ve never known such grief and, now, I’ve never known such gratitude.

Today, I welcomed a grateful grief. I walked in it all the way to the store where I bought a table to build an alter for Chris. I also bought a candle with a cooling eucalyptus scent and some sage poms to place near his photo. Between tonight and tomorrow, my partner and I will put out/enjoy some of Chris’ favorite snacks to help us remember how brightly he burned.

It’s brought me peace to welcome a grateful grief. I hope that, when the time comes, you’ll know this peace too.

Welcoming A Grateful Grief