“Joy is the fruit of well-lived grief.”
– Anonymous sweet, old farmer lady
I love words that say it right or say it differently and may say it all. I like the art of language and the places it touches. I may just like the truth or something that feels like it might be true. This may be why I like this quote.
The idea of “well-lived grief” is a generous one. It is honest, but gentle. It lacks no compassion or understanding. It’s a gracious effort to reframe a hard thing in a softer way without minimizing the hard parts. Grief is hard. It’s also inescapable, if life is lived in any way that matters. How we live this grief may define our whole lives.
Many of us know it early and carry it the whole way. Sometimes we don’t live it well and we suffer and make others suffer, too. But, maybe, we can use it better and live it better and bear some fruit from the seeds of sadness and confusion and loss. Maybe we can use the contrast or the knowledge of things we’ve cared about to care better and do better and be better. Maybe joy lives here. I’m not sure about any of these things, but I like the words and the picture they paint and the hope that grief is meant for something more than nothing.
I made some epic nachos tonight. I prepared the fixin’s at home prior to heading to a buddy’s house for a football game visit. I pan-fried some taco meat and al pastor pork. I diced onions and cilantro and made some tomatoey salsa with an avocado in it. I spread out my bounty on a sheet pan in my friend’s kitchen and melted the cheese. It was a double layer of meat and cheese and chips with olives and onion bits and cilantro on top. And it was fine. I shared it with my friends and felt joy. Carrying many other things on a rainy night, I still felt the simple joys of food and friends. This may have been the fruit of my well-lived grief.
Again, I’m not too sure about these things, but with Halloween day marking another anniversary of my little brother’s death, I reflect on them and I feel them and I wonder about them. I wonder how my many years knowing grief changed my life’s experience. The answer is probably complicated as I haven’t always lived it well. But, we probably do the best we can, and hopefully we learn. And, maybe we learn to live and not simply survive. This may be the born fruit and I suspect it’s sweet. I think I’ve tasted it and it might taste like coffee in bed on a dark and wet Sunday morning, or grilled chicken at sunset on a warm summer evening, or nachos with spicy sour cream and lime and tender meats and melted cheese enjoyed while watching my cold waters roil and the wind blow the rain sideways as I smile with some people I love. If this is well-lived grief, then it might also be well-lived life, and I suppose this is the point of the whole thing.
Dave Markwell is a life-long Des Moines liver and lover. Former owner of Waterland CrossFit and the Waterland Arcade, Dave uses his unique story-telling voice to help small businesses tell a better story, and his love for people to help folks live bigger and better lives. For more info, check out his website: wordsbydave.net
