Grief appears as a force of nature. Much like gravity, it weighs upon one's shoulders like a cloak made of iron. Left alone, it drags behind, slowing steps, straining the heart. Once acknowledged, adaptation slowly occurs, allowing one to once again step, if not lightly, then firmly grounded.
My younger brother has wrought grief upon my loved ones for years. Victim of a disease over which he could not seem to seek a solution, the pain he caused is as immeasurable as the laughter he so often evoked. In fact, my family moniker, Bean, was his idea-originally intended as an adolescent insult; embraced in later years as a term of fondness.
I have found that while grief over time does not lessen, it does lighten. Its presence scars the heart, not to weaken, but to strengthen. Pain fades, joy and laughter are remembered, and life goes on. He'd have wished it to be that way. The lessening of grief is not found in forgetting. It is instead found in acknowledgment and honor of the good instead of the bad, the joy instead of the sadness, the blessing instead of the curse, the silver lining instead of the cloud. Shine on, bro...
