Tag: death

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The Ending is Not a Mystery

“In the Evening We Shall be Examined on Love”

-St. John of the Cross

And it won’t be multiple choice,
Though some of us would prefer it that way.
Neither will it be essay, which tempts us to run on
When we should be sticking to the point, if not together.
In the evening, there shall be implications
Our fear will change to complications. “No cheating,”
We’ll be told, and we’ll try to figure the cost of being true
To ourselves. In the evening, when the sky has turned
That certain blue, the blue of exam books, books of no more
Daily evasion, we shall climb the hill as the light empties
And park our tired bodies on a bench above the city
And try to fill in the blanks. And we won’t be tested
Like defendants on trial, cross-examined
Till one of us breaks down, guilty as charged. No,
In the evening, after the day has refused to testify,
We shall be examined on love like students
Who don’t even recall signing up for the course
And now must take their orals, forced to speak for once
From the heart and not off the top of their heads.
And when the evening is over and it’s late
The student body asleep, even the great teachers
Retired for the night, we shall stay up
And run back over the questions, each in our own way:
What’s true and what’s false, what unknown quantity
Will balance the equation, what it would mean years from now
To look back and know
We did not fail.

–By Thomas Centolella

My dear loved ones, the end is not a mystery. As a grief counselor, I’ve worked with death enough times to know that while the journey of life can be unpredictable and abrupt, the ending is not a mystery.

How does it all end? The answer is always LOVE.

Did you love? All the time, any time, as big as the universe, despite the pain, despite the tragedy, despite the sorrow, because of the joy, because of the swiftness of time, because of the laughter, because of the happiness, because of chances given, because of chances taken, regardless of who, what, where, when, how, despite war, violence, death, and in honor of being alive?

Did you love?

Perks of being a counselor: Constant and consistent reminders of the vital force of life and hope that LOVE is. In the end, that is all that remains.

Woman sitting on a bench looking at the sky with heart-shaped clouds.
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Footprints 👣 Upon Our Hearts

Mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, cousins, aunts, uncles, brothers, sisters, grandmothers, grandfathers, friends…each person who died was someone special in someone else’s life.

Each walked their footprints upon our hearts.

When winter melts into spring, and tears continue to stream,

You’ll not be forgotten or overlooked

Because in your footprints flowers will bloom.

We will not forget your love,

Our memories will never abandon you.

Because we know when we are walking on,

We are not walking on alone.

Your footprints continue to impact our hearts,

Melting the cold, cold snow.

Because of you we must continue on,

Because we know we’re not continuing on alone.

One day, the hatred and greed will subside.

One day peace will start to bloom.

We know you’re always here with us,

And one day your footprints will guide us home.

Dedicated to all on and affected by Flight PS752 ❤️💔❤️

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On Grief…

Grief is heavy. It’s like carrying around a weighted blanket with you for the rest of your life, except it’s not comforting to be weighed down. Everything becomes more laborious. Your movements slow down. Your thinking slows down. It’s like you’re carrying around with you the entire world and all the pain and suffering that has ever existed from the beginning of time, all. the. time.

You see people around you moving about their lives and it feels like you’re in a slow motion movie while everyone else’s life has been sped up. Every now and then, someone steps out of their fast-paced dimensions just long enough for you to be able to see their faces and for them to see yours, but no one can stay in your slow world with you, no one is allowed. It’s the kind of restricted access no one would ever wish for, but here you are, and here you will be forever.

You learn to start walking with this heaviness weighing you down. Some days it feels like you’re walking in tar and can barely take a step forward. Other times, it feels more like you’re moving in water, still hard but much more preferable to the dark tar. You learn to appreciate walking the earth with your heavy blanket as long as you can still move and feel the earth beneath your feet. Slowly, you forget you’re being weighed down and learn that this is your new gravity, your new posture.

You start to feel gratitude for this blanket because it’s a reminder of your love for the person, for YOUR person, who has died. Eventually, the blanket becomes your protection from the speedy lives everyone else is living. You realize that while you’ve slowed down, become immobilized at times, you’ve also been able to see the moments within the moments that everyone else is missing.

At some point, you’re able to recognize the faces of others who are also moving slowly through time. You find them and they find you, and without any words, you KNOW and recognize each other. You know what is happening, you see each other’s weighted blankets and you recognize the beautiful designs on them. You begin to see that the blanket is no longer painful to carry because while you’re still weighed down, you have built some very strong heart muscles to carry all the grief and love. And so you continue to walk.

That is all. You continue to walk. That is all, that is EVERYTHING.

Perks of being a counselor: inter-dimensional access and journeying with those who have built the strongest of hearts. I see you.

💓🙏🏽💓