Grieving requires connection and vulnerability, and it hurts. A lot.

“No road is too long
with a friend
by your side”

No matter how much pain life brings us, with the right people around us, we can handle it. That's how I interpret this quote. I've experienced this many times. Today was one of those times.

Last night, I dreamed about a friend of mine who died in a bicycle accident a year and a half ago. In the dream, we were talking to each other, while other friends were around us. But the conversation itself was just between the two of us. The dream was lifelike, but at the same time I was very aware that he was dead. So it was a very real conversation—just as if it were taking place during the day—but I knew very well that he was dead, and I referred to that during our conversation. He knew it too. He was here, with me, and at the same time he wasn't. A very strange experience, but not the first time I've had it.

Anyway, I had a very nice, open, and honest conversation with him. And then my alarm went off. And I hated it. I didn't want to let him go again; I was enjoying talking to him so much. So I started crying, right there, in my bed. I cried and I prayed. I asked God to be with me in my sadness, in my grief. I didn't ask Him to take it away from me, because He's not Mr. Clean. No, I asked Him to stay close to me and guide me so that I could deal with this in a healthy way today.

I sent a message to a very good friend and told her about my dream in detail. The whole conversation. I know it's necessary to share all my emotions. Only then healing and transformation can take place. After that, I prayed and meditated, hoping that I would be completely myself again and free of grief, but that wasn't the case. Finally, I knew: I had to call someone, share everything out loud, and really feel my grief. So I called someone from my Twelve Step program and told her about my dream, how beautiful the conversation was, and how much I miss my friend. Still. Even though the pain is a lot less after a year and a half, it's still there. Much more bearable than when he had just passed away, though. Back then, I was a zombie for months. I walked around numb, the pain was too great, the grief still too raw. I didn't force it then, I just let it be, and it has lessened over time. Thank God. Now it flares up occasionally, like today.

That phone call helped. Someone who just listened, who was there for me, without offering solutions. Who showed in words and deeds: “I'm here, you're surrounded, it's okay.” That really helped me. My friend, whom I had sent a message, also let me know several times throughout the day that she was there for me.

Being part of a community has changed my life. There are always people there for me, and in return, I get the chance to be there for them too. We do this together, life. You really can't do it alone. I truly believe that being part of a community contributes to the recovery process.

I wish I could say that after that phone call I was completely okay again. That I no longer felt any pain or sadness. That wasn't the case. But the biggest, heaviest burden had lifted. After that, I would no longer spontaneously burst into tears at, say, the supermarket checkout. But the sadness is still there. And that's okay. It's allowed to be there. I don't have to hide it or numb it, or even worse: deny it. I can feel it fully because I know I am safe. Today, I am sufficiently rooted in myself, in life, to be able to handle this in a safe way. It's okay. It won't knock me off my feet anymore.

And yet, no matter how I look at it, grieving hurts. It hurts a lot. But it is one of the purest emotions I know: it is so beautiful, so pure, and so terribly painful. I cannot compare it to fear or anger, which often have something ‘impure’ about them. It is of a completely different order, and almost spiritual in itself. It is necessary to acknowledge it and feel it. And to give it time, a lot of time.

“No street is too long with a friend by your side”...

Today, I am grateful that I ever got to know this friend, that he was in my life. If I had never made that connection, I would not have experienced the pain, but how much would I have missed? Friendship requires vulnerability; it cannot exist without it. I am glad that I had friends then—and still have friends today—to whom I can pour out my heart, and who surround me with their love. The Real Connection. Without it, I wouldn't be able to heal.

Nathalie