A Study of Grief

I. A KIDNEY

Marianne sent me an email several days ago, a piece of writing she made for somebody, a beautiful piece as could only be expected of her. It prompted thoughts about grief, and suddenly I found myself awake for the better part of the night, thinking of her grief, my grief.

I thought of the validity of grief, whether one was weak or strong for talking about hers, whether one was always entitled to it, whether my grief was less valid than Marianne's or the other way around.

I want to write her back, letting her know that her grief is valid, perhaps by showing her that I too carry around a form of grief, which I take out from my heart from time to time to observe.  And that after observing it, I always want to put it somewhere - preferably in a trash bin - but so far it is not happening yet.

It is a lot of me - this grief - more like a kidney and not a kidney stone; not something you can flush away whether intentionally or unintentionally by drinking a lot of water. A kidney! I will go about my day, blissfully minding my work - then it takes only a sip of water to remind me that a kidney is inside me.

It takes just a word, a letter, an intro to a song, a simple tune - and one is transported back to that grief.

II. A TREE

With love, it is like we plant a tree inside us, only after we have fully realized the reasons why the tree must be there. We have evidence, hard proofs that the tree must be where it is now: the roots entwined our limbs, its heart sucks the blood from our heart, its great leaves are our thoughts, our joy.

It is very reasonable that we ask for equally hard proofs, for valid reasons as to why one day we have to chop this tree down ourselves. One look at its roots and it's clear: weeding them out will be a slow, painful process, and it will cost us our limbs.

Look at the tree, why is it even there, why did we even let it grow this big, if not for the valid reasons we gathered along the way, that tree must grow, so big and strong inside our own psyche?

Does the universe (or god, or the humans who provide us evidence that the tree must grow) not owe us an explanation as to why this tree must now go?

Do we not deserve a closure, at the very least, be it a tiny sign or a thunderstorm? Because it confuses us so much that it pains: the irrational, illogical turns of events that give us no reason to cut off our limbs. We get that our limbs must go, axes are already in our hands, all we ask is, why?

Why chop them off? Why is there not a valid reason? How is one expected to start a process so big, so slow, so painful, without reasons?

III.  WALKING AROUND AS A LIVING TREE, WITH A KIDNEY INSIDE

I cannot pretend that a closure comes to me, so a grief can be nicely wrapped and put away.  Just like in the occurrence of deaths and other tragedies in life, a closure is rarely provided, and chopping off your limbs does not always mean you are free for life.

I choose to keep my tree, my kidney. Somehow I think Marianne's tree and kidney are too beautiful, she should keep them too. As I am a lot older than her, I thought I knew more - I thought I would be able to tell her how to navigate through life with tree roots interlacing our limbs, a throbbing kidney inside us.

Alas, the truth is, I don't know how. Even in my ripe old age all I can say is that one will walk as one has always walked, one's steps heavier now that the tree is big.

But one just walks - stubbornly if one will -whether or not there is a closure. Whether or not there is a reason. Whether or not one feels up to it.

One just walks. And I know that if the one happens to be Marianne...not only she will walk, she will write, too. Beautifully, as can only be expected of her.