As Grief Moves Through You: Reflections by Elizabeth Gilbert
"I have learned that Grief is a force of energy that cannot be controlled or predicted," writes Elizabeth Gilbert. In her raw and profound reflection on grief, Gilbert compares the experience to a tsunami—unpredictable and overwhelming. She explains that just as with love, grief cannot be "handled" but must be surrendered to with humility. The key, she suggests, is to be willing to experience grief fully, to acknowledge its truths, and to honor the depth of love that underlies the pain.
Gilbert’s writing resonates with the understanding that grief is not something to be overcome but a powerful, transformative force that reflects the magnitude of love. "It’s an honor to be in grief. It’s an honor to feel that much, to have loved that much," she concludes, offering a perspective that invites us to embrace grief as a profound testament to love.
"I have learned that Grief is a force of energy that cannot be controlled or predicted. It comes and goes on its own schedule. Grief does not obey your plans or your wishes. Grief will do whatever it wants to you, whenever it wants to. In that regard, Grief has a lot in common with Love.
The only way I can 'handle' Grief, then, is the same way I 'handle' Love—by not 'handling' it. By bowing down before its power, in complete humility.
When Grief comes to visit me, it’s like being visited by a tsunami. I am given just enough warning to say, 'Oh my God, this is happening RIGHT NOW,' and then I drop to the floor on my knees and let it rock me.
How do you survive the tsunami of Grief? By being willing to experience it, without resistance. The conversation with Grief, then, is one of prayer-and-response.
Grief says to me, 'You will never love anyone the way you loved Rayya.' And I reply, 'I am willing for that to be true.'
Grief says, 'She’s gone, and she’s never coming back.' I reply, 'I am willing for that to be true.'
Grief says, 'You will never hear that laugh again.' I say, 'I am willing.'
Grief says, 'You will never smell her skin again.' I get down on the floor, and through my sheets of tears, I say, 'I AM WILLING.'
This is the job of the living—to be willing to bow down before EVERYTHING that is bigger than you. And nearly everything in this world is bigger than you.
I don’t know where Rayya is now. It’s not mine to know. I only know that I will love her forever. And that I am willing.
Onward."
"It’s an honor to be in grief. It’s an honor to feel that much, to have loved that much."
