The Pounce of Grief

I love to watch my neighbor's cat guard the activity along a stone wall in my garden. He lounges in the sunshine, but don't think for a minute he isn't watching and waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting chipmunk or swat at a loitering butterfly. He creeps through the shrubs, making no noise, then in the blink of an eye he vanishes as quietly and quickly as he came.

In grief language, we call this being "ambushed." Grief, the internal experience of great loss, often lounges in our souls, quietly waits to make a move.  We will be going through our day - or moving through the years - thinking we are making progress. Grief pounces on our heart and we are overcome with a profound sense of loss.

Sometimes it happens when we cross an anniversary of our loved one. Sometimes it happens when we hear a certain song or see someone with similar features. Sometimes it happens when we participate in events for others like marriages and new babies and remember that we won't be having that experience. And many times, it just happens. Period.

The good news for grievers is like the prowling cat, profound grief doesn't hang around forever, but weaves itself in and out of our lives, never fully going away. Sometimes it's tangled and messy. Sometimes it lingers around looking for a vulnerable heart. That's okay. A vulnerable heart means it is beating to the tune of love and life. A vulnerable heart has loved greatly. A vulnerable heart can be compassionate to others. And then healing comes. Healing comes when the broken heart can take new steps to live without the one who was loved. Taking those new steps means we are moving.

Moving with hope. Moving with trust that we will find our way. Oh, God, show us the way.