Good Grief
Hello you purple people eater.
While the pandemic has blanketed a lot of our collective conscious and unconscious energy lately, "normal" life continues to unfold in its rich tapestry of joys and sorrows. Spring is sprung-ing, people are welcoming new life into the world, are graduating from university, are being promoted, are learning, growing, creating, connecting. All of the happy, proud and beautiful moments we experienced before March 2020 are still happening under this blanket of pandemic energy.
And the same is true of life's sorrows. There is a lot of fear, pain and sadness directly connected to this global moment, but there is also a separate and quiet undercurrent carrying the many private sorrows that were set in motion before the quarantine, and which would have been part of that rich tapestry of life even if COVID had never happened. I know several people who have recently lost loved ones in non-COVID-related circumstances over the past couple of weeks, and our family has joined this growing group of people navigating the under-the-pandemic-blanket sorrow.
Cousin Michelle passed away on her own terms this Friday after a ten year battle with metastatic breast cancer. She left behind her husband and their three girls, as well as her loving parents and siblings, and a large community of extended family and friends who were part of her life journey. She lived in Calgary with her family, so she and I didn't get to spend a lot of time together in recent years. But one thing I do know that was always true for her: Michelle loved life. Even after she was diagnosed, she still traveled the world with her family, going on hikes in the mountains and enjoying nature (and even relishing in the chaos when the Lister Family Games Night got epically out of control). She was always soaking up as much of life's richness as possible while also pursuing every potential cancer treatment she could find with unwavering optimism and gusto. She had a bright, beautiful soul and her passing is a great loss.
Like Michelle's family and community, many others are also going through their own private pains and sorrows in this moment. And it can be difficult to be present for this kind of loss at the best of times, let alone during a pandemic. However "loss is a reminder of the impermanence of life, and sadness signals that you cared: What was taken away mattered to you. If you look inside the pain, with gentleness, making room for discomfort, you can discover what mattered [and matters]." Michelle's love of life connected with and inspired so many people, and her passing has been a reminder to notice and appreciate the myriad of subtle and significant ways that we are all continuing on our journeys through life despite the quarantine, and how important it is to be present to all of them.
I am so grateful to feel relatively safe right now and to be able to find many moments of joy (and the dissonance of that joy) in the midst of this global moment. But as I am present with the sadness of Michelle's passing and the loss of her light, I also feel grateful for this moment of pain and sadness of "normal life". To experience the full range of life's joys and sorrows right now, to me, is a painful but welcome signal of our collective resilience as a species-- that even in the midst of this crisis with all of its panic and chaos, we still love.
That love gives me so much hope. And I thank Michelle for that gift.
Nelson Mandela has said, “There is no passion to be found playing small, in settling for a life that is less than the one you are capable of living.” In this moment of heartache, this advice feels particularly poignant. Michelle left us early-- in her mid 40s-- and I imagine she understood better than most of us that “the middle-aged person is being consumed by life, and knows it." I think she would agree that in response to this truth, we should "feed the flame... and go up brightly.”
Michelle went up brightly. And I am grateful for the light she shared with us.
As always, thank you for being you in whatever ways you are able to show up today. In joy, in sorrow, in comfort, in fear, in happiness... in all of your humanness.
But wait! Perhaps all of this talk of love and loss is feeling a bit too intense on a sunny Sunday morning? Then why not take a pause, sit down with a warm beverage of your choice, breathe for a moment or two, and then write an email to your future self. I know I have shared this before, but it feels like a particularly useful exercise in this moment.
Or maybe you just want to focus on the pandemic right now... I have to recommend Coronadaily-- it is by far the best resource I have found with a daily summary of some of the key discussions, advances and issues surrounding the pandemic. Highly recommended.
Still too much realness? Then feel free to check out this post of people recreating classic art in isolation.
From one grateful person to another, I am glad that we can mourn our losses together. I hope you enjoyed this dispatch, and have a love-filled week!
Until next Sunday,
The Earnest Platypus