Grief and Gratitude

Five years ago, my brother-in-law Eric died.

How has it already been five years? Sometimes it feels as if it was just yesterday that I got that terrible call from my mother telling me he was gone. I can close my eyes and go back to that time, as I received that heartbreaking news and then shared it with one person after another.

How has it only been five years? I look at my sister and am amazed by all she’s accomplished for and with her children. I look at my nieces and nephews and know that Eric would be so, so proud of them. I know I am.

Time keeps flying. Grief gets easier with the passing of time, except when it doesn’t, of course.

Grief is so strange.

The other day, I listened to a podcast called Grateful for Grief where Anderson Cooper and Stephen Colbert talk about being grateful for grief. I’m not sure I can say that is true for me. Grief is a heavy burden to carry—and perhaps even heavier to watch your loved ones carry.

But I think I know a little of what Anderson and Stephen mean.

I am thankful to love deeply. I’m thankful to be able to carry the people I have loved and lost in my heart. I am thankful to have so many rich memories to hold onto. And there’s gratitude in knowing it’s OK to look forward to a time when we’ll be united with those we’ve lost again—as we are certain we will be one day.

Knowing Eric was—and is—such a wonderful gift.

Eric had a beautiful way of seeing potential and ability in people—but also for accepting them exactly as they were, without judgment. I admired that in his parenting, and I strive for that myself.

Eric was the most incredible conversationalist. He could talk about anything and everything—and with an insight and curiosity that not many people bring to discussions.

He had a compassionate heart and incredible generosity. He wanted the world to be better, and he did his part to make it that way.

He had a marvelous sense of fun. He and I both knew that budgets meant nothing if children were smiling up at you, asking for another ride at the Boardwalk or donuts for breakfast or another chance at winning a giant stuffed animal.

Eric took an interest in each person and loved them just as they are.

At my busiest moments, when I’m writing and writing and writing, I remember one day when Eric started analyzing what I was getting paid per word. It was a ludicrous amount, absurdly low, and we sat and laughed. He knew I wasn’t really writing to make a living. He understood that I needed to create, that that was part of who I am. Eric understood pouring yourself into what you do. That’s how he was.

Today, I’m not feeling grateful for grief. But I am grateful for Eric. And I’m grateful for the good memories that come rushing back when I think of him. Thank you for letting me share a few of them with you today.

If you have a minute today, would you say a prayer for Eric and those who miss him? They’re some of the people I love most in the world.

You might also enjoy: Lesson in Love

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