Life is for Living: Grief and the Importance of Presence

Photographed by Marguerite Marie 4.25.20

There’s something about loss that shifts the air around you. Time suddenly feels distorted. Moments that once felt routine or forgettable now shimmer with meaning, because you realize, with startling clarity, how fragile everything is. How quickly people can disappear from our everyday lives, even though they were just here. Laughing, speaking, existing.

Yesterday, I said goodbye to someone dear. The room was heavy with grief, but also full of memory, echoes of who she was, how she loved, what she left behind in the hearts of those who knew her. As I sat in that space between life and death, mourning and meaning, I kept thinking: Death doesn’t do what life can.

It doesn’t call. It doesn’t visit. It doesn’t pause to say, “I miss you.” It doesn’t sit beside you, awkward and tender, with a cup of coffee. It doesn’t ask how you’ve been, or let you answer slowly. It doesn’t hold your hand when you’re scared, or laugh at your bad jokes, or meet you for one more walk in the woods. Only life does that. Only life offers presence. Only life gives us the chance to try again. To say what we mean. To forgive. To remember birthdays. To show up, imperfect but full of love.

The truth is, we all get busy. We tell ourselves there will be time later. We say, “I’ll call them next week,” or “We’ll plan something soon.” But sometimes, later doesn’t come. And we’re left carrying words that never made it past our lips. I don’t say that to be morbid, I say it because I needed the reminder too. We all do.

If someone is on your heart right now, it’s probably not an accident. Call them. Visit them. Tell them what you see in them. Share the softness of your heart while you still can. Because death doesn’t do any of that. Sure, you can always feel the presence of your loved ones, and talk to them, but you can no longer make the memories that life can, that life does. And life, is the greatest invitation we’ll ever receive. It’s the thread that connects us, the grace that leads us, the breath that holds us when sorrow feels too big.

Let’s not wait for grief to remind us what love requires. Let’s live it. Now.