Processing A Paradoxical Year of Gratitude & Grief
Hope Infusion Newsletter • Christmas Eve Edition
Greetings Hope Infusion Subscribers,
In September I penned a newsletter post about parenting the parent who once parented you, a reflection on the challenges and realities of eldercare.
Three months later, as this year draws to a close, so has my journey as parental caregiver. My father transitioned from this plane of existence to the next on December 6th, was memorialized on December 17th, and laid to rest on December 20th.
If you care to read the post I wrote the night he died, which details the events leading up to his transition, it can be found here.
As I reflect back on the events of 2022, I realize my year is well surmised by an excerpt from Charles Dickens’ opening to A Tale of Two Cities:
This year was one of the most paradoxical of my adult life — an intricate tapestry of grief interwoven with threads of grace.
Gratitude and Grief became my travel companions this year. I didn’t invite them to join my journey, but they came along anyway — uninvited!
Gratitude and Grief are not adversaries. They are allies; A paradoxical duo of comrades that journey alongside each other, often hand in hand.
I’m a keen observer of patterns. And the recurrent interplay between grief and gratitude is one of which I’ve taken notice.
I felt on many occasions these last twelve months that I couldn’t possibly abide another ounce of disappointment, devastation, or despair as I navigated a seemingly unending cascade of parental healthcare crises. And then Grace came to the rescue in astounding fashion, sometimes in ways seen — other times in ways unseen.
And a fountain of internal gratitude bubbled up to overflowing. And I momentarily felt my heart could not possibly contain more thankfulness and appreciation than I experienced in that moment.
And then….
Wash. Rinse. Repeat…. the cycle continued as this paradoxical reality replayed itself on a sort of cosmic auto-repeat loop.
This year I’ve entered a season of noticing. And in so doing, I’ve been awed by the recognition of subtle realities, once overlooked, that I now discern with a sharpness and clarity I didn’t previously possess. It shines a bright beacon of enlightenment on the necessity and role of pain, hardship, trial, and loss in the human experience.
The weight of grief allows me to build muscles of resilience that could not be formed without the gravitational pull of adversity. It works the same way it does with human bodies in a gym — that’s why weight lifting is called “resistance training.”
Author Francis Weller eloquently describes the paradoxical relationship between grief and gratitude this way:
And to Mr. Weller’s eloquent description I say a hearty and resounding, “Yes and Amen. Let it be so!”