It’s been almost three weeks since my next-door neighbor had one of her dogs put down. And ever since then, her surviving dog howls, every single day. He walks around the house, searching in vain for his lost friend.
So with this daily reminder, I’ve been thinking about grief, and how deeply it cuts when you lose someone. You can’t think your way around it, no matter how hard you try. The pain is visceral, it’s like being hit by a car. You howl because it’s how you let the pain out.
And even though you convince yourself that the pain will never get any better, and that you’ll never survive, somehow you do. And then the sun comes out, and one day you notice a crocus and you decide it’s a nice day to go for a walk.
And then suddenly, you’ve gone days without thinking about it. After a while, even a few weeks. You see possibility in your life again. You even start to make plans, and one day, although you swore you’d never, ever forget, you’re happy. For one day, and then another. You’ve made it through, although you never thought you would.
And that sense of joy and that rebirth, that’s a resurrection, although we don’t call it that. And maybe that’s the real story: That we can feel like we’re dying, and yet still we’re reborn, again and again.