What will remain when the worst of grief is over? What traditions, routines and events will continue? What relationships strengthened and which disintegrated?
What characteristics will be deepened and which sloughed off?
What spits out at the end of a glacial lake?
There is a lot of power in grief- as much as it seems so exhausting- it is a turbulent force. It so happens that storms have often awed me and I even have enjoyed being in the midst of them.
When I look on grief as a terrible storm, I can see that it has its moments of beauty, too. A severe one, at times, but beautiful nonetheless.
I hope love remains. I hope truth remains. I hope new life arises.