Yesterday I sat down in a beautiful auditorium to witness a beautiful moment. The church reserved seating for family and friends to observe the life-changing proclamation my son made to follow Christ.
There were 20 seats reserved for our group. And we were pressed to fit. Almost immediately after taking my seat, the grief sunk in. And an amount of loneliness. Of all of the 20 seats, only one of those was filled with a member from my family of origin. The others were my husband’s family and our close friends. Overwhelmed with joy and gratitude for those surrounding us and grief for those who didn’t, I cried. And I cried. And I cried.
Most of us are familiar with grief. And the experience is different for every person and even the same person in different circumstances. The grief I experienced with the loss of my first love, my grandfathers, and my exquisite grandmother all come with immense sadness partnered with joyful memories and experiences. Remembering each can bring me comfort and happy memories at times.
But grieving the living has been a very different experience for me. Sometimes we are separated from relationships due to necessary circumstances. And we grieve the loss of that loved one and deep down wish things could be different. They could be there, but they can’t.
In other circumstances, we grieve something we never had. We might not grieve the person as much as the relationship or bond that was never formed. The empty space in our hearts for a father we never knew or a mother we never had. A mentally ill parent or an alcoholic family member……We can make peace with the boundaries we set. We can make peace with having no contact with those that hurt us. Some of them we miss. Some of them we do not. But it is in moments like my son’s baptism that I believe we will always grieve the empty seats, even of the living.
It’s in these moments we can be starkly reminded of the gaping holes in our family or childhood. And the empty seats likely symbolize great pain and loss -for many of us- over a lifetime. We can grieve what we never had.
Unlike the living, I didn’t grieve my grandmother’s passing in that moment. Because my grandmother was there. She was there in the love and grace she showed me. She was there in me. And in my children.
An important exercise in yoga is allowing oneself to experience polarized emotions at the same time. Grief and joy. The tears running down were filled with both. Joy for the ones God so sweetly provided to fill those seats for my baby. Grief for the ones not present. Joy for the beauty of watching my child begin his eternal journey with Jesus and the hope that brings. Comfort in the knowledge that God can and does fill the empty spaces in His way.
If you are grieving the living today, you are not alone. And know, that it is okay. Grief is hard and overwhelming. But it absolutely can be felt in the exact same moments as joy if we can find a way to allow them both in.
Much much love ❤️ and blessings.