The Struggle for Meaning

I’ve hit a valley in the ongoing struggle with my grief for Lucy. There’s no “why,” I’m just more sad right now, in the midst of my beautiful, happy life. And it’s becoming more difficult to talk about it, because I feel that I have to come up with something new to say to justify talking about it. That’s not true. Grief relives the same feelings over and over, and there are only so many ways to express the depths of sadness. Saying “I miss you” and “my heart is broken without you” is as timeless as saying “I love you,” and really, they’re the same anyway.

So what should I say? Should I say “Lucy, I love you, I miss you, my life can never be whole without you?” I do, often. Should I say that I would have given all the years of my life for you to live? We wanted to, asked to, while she was alive. We begged and pleaded, and both of us would have signed any compact to exchange our time for hers.

We couldn’t, so instead we try to use our time better, in her honor and on her behalf. I try to love more honestly and more openly. I try to be grateful for all the many, many blessings in my life. I try to see the best in people, and recognize their struggles. I fail often, but I try. I try to be patient, but I have little patience for talk about how terrible this world is, and how everything is falling apart, and how evil is winning. The world is filled with beauty, and love, and charity. It is a place where children are happy, and where beautiful little souls like my Lucy can come for a moment to remind us of the good in ourselves and others, and to inspire us to strive to do better.