Walking through the town cemetery yesterday, I came across a statue I not quite noticed before, and it touched me more than many of the others I had seen. It made me start to cry. It was a perfect expression of grief and loss. Tears of grief and loss simply welled up in me and came pouring out, Red came rushing over, puzzled and concerned, ever the therapy dog.

I have no idea what made me cry, except for the sadness in this beautiful piece, the loss. All of us have lost things in our lives – people, things, hopes and dreams, loves and memories. I am getting older now, and sometimes the things I have lost just pile up and rush through my consciousness, I feel sad about it. So many people, so many dreams, so much pain.

I have come to see grief and loss as cleansing. Also, as universal.  Grief connects me to everyone, to you. Grief does not belong to me, it is a part of every being, every life. We have all lost things, and will lose more things. Grace, for me, is how I respond to that. I do not wish to deny grief, nor let it ever consume or dominate me.

I do not see my life as sad, I do not see it as a struggle, I see it as a life, and every life has loss and grief. I wrote an e-mail to a friend I hadn’t spoken with in a long while, she asked me how I was, she wanted me to help her catch up on my life, and I started by talking about the past few years – the divorce, the trouble selling Bedlam Farm, the changes in publishing, my surgery. I felt uncomfortable, I re-read the message and took a deep breath. Then I deleted all of that.

I started again.

“My life is quite wonderful,” I said. “I am still writing my books, I am very happily re-married, I am healthier than I have been in many years, I love the new home we live in, I am making good and lasting friends. In two weeks, we will have a joyous celebration of our lives, an Open House to mark our life on the farm and our rebirth together. In January, we will go to Disney World, a gift from people who love and care about us.”

Both messages are true, I can see myself either way. Struggle stories and lament are the currencies of our time, just check your Facebook feed, there are rivers of grief out there. But I liked the second message much better, it was true, and it was me, an authentic reflection of my life. I cannot escape grief, I cannot conjure up a life without trouble. But I can choose how I define myself, who I am.