On the eve of a fresh new year, I find myself looking inward, reflecting on moments small and large, happy to be intact and still in one piece, despite moments during 2012 when I felt more like a fragmented Picasso than human. It comes with this territory, one I’ve grown accustomed to over time. Nancy wrote a Facebook post earlier this month that started out, “How am I doing?” It’s the burning question everyone asks the grief-stricken, isn’t it? They want to hear that we’re managing well, that there are pockets of healing and serenity, that we are resuming some sense of normalcy and getting on with life. Yearning to see us whole again, ’ back to our old selves’ - friends and family quiz us regularly.
Going public with our sorrow, writing “Griefland,” and navigating the treacherous terrain with spectators watching from across the border, has been a life-altering experience. Stripped naked, our words honest and direct, the sacred veil of darkness lifted – revealed an unwavering commitment not only to each other, but also to this growing community that includes you.
When we began this journey, we told ourselves that walking through the fire would either melt or reinvent and illuminate us. On the cusp of 2013, we have somehow rejoined the human race, both of us realizing that every single minute is a precious jewel. We breathe the moments in, knowing that if we don’t, they will be gone forever. Nancy wrote, “Memory is a strange thing, as is grief. It morphs with time. Grief changes shape and the memories we have of our loved ones also morph, change shape, become more magnified, details become sharper, then fade into oblivion.”
Wherever you may find yourself along this path of grief and heartache, we embrace your every step, extend our arms for you to hold, balance with, touch, and feel. Let this human contact serve as a reminder that you are still alive, still breathing, and never alone in this place we call Griefland. Above all, continue walking with us as we venture toward the heart of the city to discover light.