We can be Both

The house is quiet today but my mind and heart are so full of so many things. I don't have the right words yet but I want to document this while the feelings are still fresh. Similar to the way I felt after our France trip last year, I want to remember this swirl of heart stirs and thoughts before the pace of daily life has a chance to dull them/me.

Last week, we flew to the states to say goodbye to a very dear friend who departed too soon. His passing was very sudden, disorienting, and heartbreaking. But this isn't a post about our loss or grief - we're going to navigate those murky waters in private. Suffice it to say that Steven will have a Shawn-shaped hole in his heart forever. And I mourn that hole in my lover's heart, along with all the times I squandered the opportunity to know and love Shawn as well as I could have.

Someone once told me there are only a handful of major life events that merit a big show of love: a wedding, a birth, a life saved, and a life lost. And last week held true to that statement - somehow amidst the tears and sadness there was also a quiet and large demonstration of love. Love from everyone who dropped their busy lives to bid their old friend farewell. Love for Katie, who now outlives him, as friends and family supported her grief (or tried to in our awkward and inexperienced ways) and reassured her that Shawn made a difference in our lives and would never be forgotten. And the big, big love that radiated from Katie for her departed, with nowhere to go other than poured into the people and pursuits he loved. The beauty and sadness of this duality made my heart fracture and swell at the same time, and I felt like I understood something deep and inherent about our nature as human beings.

This ability to be both (or three, or four, or all things) helped me see the complexity, and hope, and capacity for more within us. Our hearts and lives are not bounded; they can grow and expand and do somersaults, if we let them. To be utterly heartbroken yet still able to smile, to be angry at the circumstances but tender with those around us, and to mourn the loss of one while also preparing to welcome another - those are good things worth keeping. And while I know these slices exist in every corner of every day - I haven't noticed or felt them as keenly as I do right now. Just thinking about it now makes me very achey in the chest but grateful everywhere else.

This life is precious because of the love we have for others and our vast ability to act on it.