WHEN GRIEF ARRIVES LIKE THE WEATHER
Grief comes as a vision, not as an enemy. It does not knock politely; it arrives like weather, sweeping through the chambers of the heart, unbidden yet inevitable.
In its presence, the air thickens. Time bends. What was once familiar becomes distant, and the simplest act — breathing, standing, remembering — feels immense.
But grief is not here to destroy. It is here to reveal. It strips away the surface, carves open the heart, and in the hollow it leaves, the light of love is seen more clearly.
This is the vision of grief: a mirror polished with tears, showing us what cannot be lost. It speaks without words:
What you mourn was never separate.
What you ache for is still here,
woven into your very being.
To see through grief is to glimpse the eternal — the threads that bind us across time, the unseen nearness of those we thought gone, the unbroken river flowing beneath the fractures.
Yes, grief wounds. Yes, it bends us low. But in its depths, a door swings open onto the mystery of love that endures all passing.
And when we dare to look, when we let grief wash over us like a storm, we find not only sorrow, but the luminous seed of remembrance: that love transcends every boundary, and that what is sacred cannot be taken away.
Nigel Lott teaandzen.org
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