to suffer love

The loss of a loved one is an immense burden to bear. My nephew died of a drug over dose a few years back. It hurts like it was yesterday. It doesn’t seem any more real to me now than it did when it first happened. My grief hasn’t diminished, but the way I express that grief has. Now instead of railing and twisting on the floor, I sit at my computer and compose a poem, or put a post on my blog. That must be Grace.

I loved my nephew so much, that I feel a certain betrayal in his dying. I am angry that he was so incredibly stupid as to put himself in so much danger. I suffer his loss, through my deep love for him. As I’ve grown older I’ve become more aware of the delicate thread our lives truly hang upon, torn as easily as a tiny spider’s web by a careless passerby.

Love on the other hand is strong as steel. At first it flows and glows like molten lava, but as it cools it hardens and holds fast. If you experience love, it is impossible not to understand Grace. Because in order to love, it seems we need heapin’ helpins' of Grace. Otherwise, I think love might kill us.

Doesn’t that sound weird? Love? That great, wonderful, soft, warm, fuzzy feeling we can’t get enough of? Well think about it for a second. Love really isn’t that much fun. If we never loved, we’d never know loss. Oh and how loss hurts. And isn’t loss only weathered through Grace? How would we ever climb out of the abyss of loss if it wasn’t for Grace?

Grace is like the epidural of loss. You still feel something, but the impact is greatly diminished and there is at least an appreciation -- if not a vague understanding -- of the mystery of it all.

And speaking of epidurals, having children is the most masochistic thing one could possibly do in terms of love. Just looking at them sometimes breaks your heart. They are so splendid and divine while they quietly sleep -- in a smelly diaper.

So it may sound strange to say one suffers love, but how else does one know love until they suffer for it? Until the majesty of grace lays to rest the grief and despair felt when one loses a beloved to death, or the world and time.

Even just a fight with one you love brings grief and pain. It feels like a loss. It feels like something’s been severed. We try to love so perfectly. We try to love so selflessly. We try to love so preciously. But when we truly love, we lose a lot. It is required. We lose our selves. We triumph and then we bleed. And then we need Grace.

Grace is a pillar to lean against, a mother’s lap in which to lay your drowsy head. Isn’t that love? And don’t we suffer it sublimely?