On people, places, and things that see us in our lowest points

Sometimes the most unexpected gesture saves you from drowning in sorrow. Sometimes simple things like the sun rays playing with the golden leaves lessen your grief. You close your eyes and remember loved ones whom you have lost with fondness. These simple things become your guardians in grief helping you put one foot in front of the other, in spite of your deep loss.

Before covid, we could wash the faces of our hurting loved ones. We could walk into each other’s arms and hug. We could hold hands. We could enter into our loved one’s apartments and hospital rooms and sit next to someone we love.

If those we want to share their grief with live on the other side of the planet, we could travel by plane without the terror of a deadly virus making us its latest victim.

When covid hit, we adapted.

We hosted virtual funerals and celebrations. We showed up for each other, without being there.

We became guardians for each other – guardians in grief.

Who, or what, has been a guardian in your grief in the time of corona?

It’s hard to say, “I’m struggling” to another human – because you might worry them, because you think they can’t fix it, because grief comes so unexpectedly: one minute you’re okay, the next minute grief crumbles you to the floor.

Despite this struggle, a global pandemic is showing us unexpected blessings. Like people showing up for each other in their time of grief in the most unexpected ways.

Here’s an example:

Ever since I received the devastating news that my best friend died of a terrible car accident four months ago, I’m humbled by the unexpected ways people found ways to share my grief.

Some of them are my readers on the internet who have been my guardians in grief. They read poetry to me. They sent emails that put a balm to my grieving heart. Some of them are friends who live in another country who sent me the kindliest of gifts.

Those I described above have one thing in common: they did their best to be there for me, without being there.

What about you?

Who, or what, has been a guardian in your grief? Think about the who or what that’s holding your hand without actually holding your hand. If you were to write this person—or song or sound—a thank you letter, what would it say?

Grief guardians are as abundant as grief itself.

Equally fierce, powerful, and present.

Since the pandemic hit, it has been a dreadful time of loss and grief.

None of us are okay.

Maybe you’re lucky enough not to have lost a loved one. If that’s the case, you can be a guardian angel to a friend who has lost loved ones. You can be there for each other, without being there.

If you’re grieving a loved one’s loss, your job is to pay attention. Pay attention when someone holds your hand, without actually holding your hand. Pay attention to everything that continues to walk with you, even in your darkest moments. See the ways you are held by the world around you.

You find grief guardians in the most unexpected places.

Two days ago, the saleswoman in the supermarket my late friend and I used to frequent with added kitkat, my friend’s favorite chocolate brand, to my shopping list without being asked. She insisted on paying for the chocolate.

Some people’s thoughtful gesture breaks your heart.

Here are a few examples you find grief guardians in the most unexpected places:

. Someone you love sitting on the floor with you, for hours, without saying anything.

. The morning sun lightening up your bedroom.

. A hot shower.

. A change of clothes.

. Changing of seasons.

. Arts.

. The barista who offers a free cup of coffee.

. The nurse who brings a glass of water without being asked.

. The stranger who lets us take the elevator first.

. The smell of rain lingering in the air.

I don’t know about you, but these unexpected blessings help me put one foot in front of the other to lessen my grief during a global pandemic.

We can’t protect each other from pain or loss. That’s impossible. But we don’t have to carry our burdens alone. Others can shepherd us through our grief.

We can commit to being there for the people we are during our lowest points. And the people we will be after a pandemic hopefully.

We can allow our stories to intermingle. To become guardians – guardians in grief.

To your inspiration,

Banchi