It is Not for Me to Know

Why do loved ones not respond?

Why did my child walk out of my life?

Why does it make me feel unworthy of love?

Why did three dear friends die within the last three years?

Why did these brilliant, vibrant, loving, funny women - who wanted so badly to live - pass away?

I have no answers.

I only have remarkable faith in God, intense life experiences, unconditional love from my husband and four of my five children, deep connection with friends, exuberant joy with fellow seekers and learners, appreciation for the wisdom of writers, and gratitude for those who tell their stories and shed light on mine.

And I have grief. We all do. Grief is the consequence of love. It is a privilege to love so much.

I love those no longer in my life because of death, and I love those who have chosen to walk away from me.

Love is enough.

The why is not for me to know. I can get stuck in the past and in trying to figure out what I did wrong, what sequence of events led to such suffering.

When stuck on why, I zoom out (see Ethan Kross’ book Chatter). I see that by focusing on the disillusionment, I miss out on the majesty of the lens of the James Webb telescope.

Rumination wreaks havoc on wonder and awe. And it screws with laughter and wit. The rabbit hole provides no view of beauty.

I cannot articulate the logic of the nightly shift in the location of the sunset over Lake Michigan from the shores on Indiana. The world shifts. I can Google the details, and explain the Earth’s orbit to my grandchildren. I cannot get on a browser and explain why relationships end and why people die.

My granddaughter and grandson will have relationships thrive and whither. They will experience heartache. I will not be a provider of cause and effect, but I will be able to empathize based on my own loss, my own sadness. I wish I could protect them from such pain. I pray they remain close and that they rely on the safety nets of all that is Good and Holy. I pray that the love of beloved parents, aunts, uncles, teachers and friends are enough to see them through.

These precious, unexplainable and deeply real connections have been enough for me along with a support network of people that only two years ago were strangers.

New friends show up at every age, even 62. This life thing is full of abundant surprises.

Just as I know tomorrow will be a little bit longer than today in the Northern Hemisphere, I know that my resilience in the face of challenges will grow. I get stronger every day, and some days like today, December 29, in rainy, cold, dismal Chicagoland, rest works wonders.

For me, keys to resilience include the release of the need to grasp, to control, to fix, to know why. Others’ stories are not mine to tell.

I may not know, but I do feel. “You gotta feel it to heal it.” Healing enables me to not pass the pain to others, and I thank my safety nets. Just as we don’t walk alone, we don’t heal alone.