I woke to the sun last Wednesday. Warm, golden (annoyingly bright) rays poked their way through that crack of space I usually try to shutter at night. You see, it’s easier to close myself off from the world, its noise, the thrum of it all. Lately, I’ve been trying to, well, have a better attitude about mornings — not be such a grump about them, you know? But this morning felt heavier than normal — as though the air carried the weight of a thousand sorrows in every square inch of space (maybe I ate too much Thai last night?).

Some mornings feel that way, relentlessly heavy…

Most days, I never know why — it simply is what it is. But as I shuffled downstairs to pour myself a mug of coffee, I couldn’t shake it off (congrats to Taylor & Trav, by the way — you’ll never know me but I’m always a sucker for a good love story).

I plopped myself down on the couch, unlocked my phone, and began my morning scroll (you know the one). A disturbing headline (honestly one of many) blurred by and I begrudgingly slowed my scroll back to see “Breaking News” in Minnesota as another group of students lived and died through the terror of gun violence. That violence, that loss — it sucks the air out of our lungs and brings us to our knees (in sorrow? In prayer? In the realization of the fragility of life?).

I guess you could say that I’ve been touched by grief over the past week. Not my own — but the experience of grief that is being human, watching fellow humans bear the weight of loss. Grief is universal, all-encompassing, as certain as our first and last breath. It is both vast in its depth and suffocating in its density. Grief wears many faces but always leaves a hollow space impossible to fill — leaving our hearts punctured, fragmented, forever changed.

Grief has been present in many forms this week…

The expected grief following a relentlessly long illness, the nauseating gut-punch following unexpected loss, the incomprehensible agony over young life ripped from a world just beginning to lay bare for them, the heartache from saying ‘goodbye’ to a pet that offered quiet comfort for so many years — all of it is raw. It stings, bites.

Grief haunts our dreams, leaves us whispering….

Where are you now, I can hear footsteps…I’m dreaming….and if you will keep me from waking, to believe this (I am lost without you by Blink 182).

Lost without you…grief is a reflection of how deeply we love

How deeply can we love? Is love measurable, something we can track with data, graphs, numbers, charts? Do we weigh it? Can we see its growth on a scale?

Or, do we only realize the depth of our love when we lose it? Grief is the judge, the assessor of love recognized once lost. Because once we’re faced with the reality of death, of absence…we fall into the chasm of every moment we cherished (or didn’t) and it consumes our every breath, every waking moment, it robs each quiet moment. Harsh, isn’t it?

Harsh and horrifyingly beautiful, in a way. But mostly harsh, unfair.

Yes, I’ve been touched by grief over the past weeks. Have you? Are you navigating the hellish murk of grief? If you are, know I’m here — in the quiet moments when loss feels overwhelmingly loud. Words of comfort, apologies, prayers, thoughts — all of our intentions meant to alleviate even an ounce of the crushing weight of grief.

…and we realize that grief is often too deep, too raw for words

…and so we sit in silence, the burn of our tears hot, wet on our cheeks. Leaving invisible trails, the scars of love lost, love realized, unable to breathe.

Perhaps the only other certainty in life apart from death is that we are never alone in our grief. Maybe the only comfort we harbor from the cruelty of loss is the shared experience of it. We don’t ever recover from it — but we entwine the shards of our broken hearts into something new. Together, we love. Together, we mourn. Together, we are changed.

Please consider reading the stories of these recent, unimaginable tragedies. If you can, send your love, energy, prayers, gifts, intentions — hold humanity in your heart and know you are never alone.

Support the families of Iowa teens killed in house fire

Support the communities affects by the Minneapolis school shooting

Famine affecting hundreds of thousands in Gaza