Someone very dear to my friends, my family, and I recently passed away. In fact, he was more than a friend to me, in heart he was my brother.
Over the months since he passed away , I have embraced grief; in feeling, in ritual, in behaviour. Recognising the profundity of the loss, I decided it was important to go into it whole-heartedly as it surfaced, rather than shrug it off. Like showing any kind of vulnerability, it took courage but I instinctively felt there would be a positive side to it somehow. Maybe it’s the way that I am built, but I seem to hold everything that comes into my life up to the light until the opportunity for growth reveals itself.
Besides, regardless of intent, one thing is true: if you live, you will experience loss. It’s something we all have to go through, so we might as well get to know it. It took time, but in going deep I heard wisdom bubbling up from the pits of my sadness, and I want to share it. It’s a way for me to fuse this tragic moment with something constructive; to create an enduring homage to my homie. And based on many deep conversations we had along the years, I think he’d have loved it.
Knowing the stages of grief helped as I moved back and forward between acceptance, denial, anger, and sadness etc.. Learning a profound question from my dear friend’s brother “Is this helping me, or hurting me?” aided me in moderating my coping mechanisms (food, alcohol, distractions…) and put me in the driver’s seat of this ageless condition known as mourning.
The sudden loss of someone close is such a difficult concept to grasp. When the news hits your ears and heart it’s like a bomb-blast going off. Shell-shock. I remember ringing in my ears, nausea and headaches. My face became sore from contorted weeping. I lost my appetite. I was exhausted from laughing at the good times, and crying in my sleep. I would catch myself starring into the distance for minutes on end. As I witnessed the sadness emanating from me, there was no question that I was in a radically different state of consciousness. I never questioned my love for my friend but now I was observing a physiological and soulful testimony.
Over time I came to see that grief did not end in a dark place, but that it gave way to a fuller picture of love.
If grief was a deep lake, the love was the perfect mirror reflection of the adjacent mighty snow-capped mountain beaming across its surface. That is, I could only be this upset because of the equal measure of love I had for my friend. It doesn’t bring him back, but it helps me see the love within the grief. It helped me keep my heart full of light and gratitude for having known him while the rest of me came to accept what had happened.
Death brings life into focus. We are so fragile. So precious. Our life is so short—sometimes shorter than any of us might realise. Losing my friend has served as a profound reminder that even the strong can suddenly leave.
So.
This is not going to be an ongoing source of sadness for me, I see it more as an opening or softening. While the grief still comes in waves, the relationship with my dear friend can continue to deepen. Just as the fig leaves start to fall from the tree in my garden, it’s a reminder of the great cycles. It’s a source of humble graciousness for what I do have.
Years ago I used to get stuck in depressive states because “nothing mattered” – until I realised that everything could be deeply meaningful precisely because “nothing mattered.” In becoming the celebration of life that I feel in me today, I turned my WHY into a WHY NOT.
To now be reminded of the finite boundaries of life, I am today feeling clearer than ever on what truly matters to me, and more dedicated to the important work that I have set out to do with others (helping my clients to uncover and fast-track their deepest desires rather than living regrets). In my love for my friend, I see the importance of every moment that I share with you holds more gravitas than ever.
Hope to connect with you soon,
Bede