“I have finished grieving, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love him.”

I have paired these two clauses together to make one thought I believed to be complete.  I wanted anyone who was listening to hear both, to hear the ‘but’ in the middle.

Please understand. Please, please, please understand me.

This weekend, a dear friend said to me, “Tricia, grief and love aren’t even remotely the same thing.  You’re comparing apples to oranges, and they’re just not related.  You can finish grieving and never finish loving.  You can love him endlessly.  You’ve linked those two in ways they’re not meant to be together.”

I learned so long ago that Joy and Sorrow are sisters in the same house.  They coexist, hand in hand.

Perhaps Grief is the greedy guest.  She sprawls across the furniture with her cold, heavy blankets, and she hides in the dark corners.  Now that she has gone, I have only the memory that she was ever here at all.

Love has stayed all along.

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