Saturday, February 9, 2013



I was recently watching a documentary profiling a individual who works specifically with those facing loss or the loss of a loved one.

It was poignant, gut-wrenching, and thought provoking.

I found myself reflecting on many of the ways I reacted to death before Michael's passing, and most importantly, after.

How it affected me, my family, and the ones I love so dearly.

How I reacted. How I questioned. How I let it affect every aspect of my life.

Some for the better. Some for the worse.

But out of all that he stated in the film, there was one subject that resonated with me more than anything.

He said to love anything to the fullest of our ability, we must recognize and love its end to the capacity.

As a child takes its first breath into the world, we must acknowledge and embrace and love that moment as much as we do in knowing that one day, that child will take its last breath.

To marry someone and vow our eternal love, we must know that one day that love will come to a physical end, yet we shall love and embrace it as much as the day we first said those two words that brought us together.

It's the only way to live fully in the bountiful blessing we are given on this earth.

Love and life. We must admire their beginning, their gifts, their end, to be willing and able to live in its amazing glory every second of our lives.

How sweet a kiss would taste if we knew it were our last. And yet, if we had acknowledged from the very first kiss exchanged, that one day it may come to an end, how much more it would mean.

A simple concept. One we probably have already known in the core of our being, but something I I didn't always, and must, acknowledge and must love with all of my being. But not only must, but want to embody. For all those I love.


  1. How beautiful and heart-wrenching. Can you share the name of the documentary?

  2. Taryn - your post has such depth and beauty. As I walked my dog this morning in the new fallen snow and bright sun, everything around me was so stunning and my thoughts were with my husband - how he loved a beautiful sunny day, the weekend and all the things we would be doing if he were alive.

    I just let the grief be there, the ache of his loss and thought about all the love I had been blessed to have. It is true - we can't have one without the other.
    Thanks for the reminder

  3. Beautiful, thank you for sharing this. I found the documentary thanks to your quote at the beginning and I'm watching it now.

  4. I don't know. Some days it is just harder to except than others. This pain is real.

  5. Of course this pain is real. It is Real. Seven years and almost eight months later, it is still real. But it changes.

    I wonder, after watching Stephen Jenkinson's documentary and visiting his website, if the pain would be different if Bruce and I had talked more about his death before it came. If we had had a different attitude toward it. If we had grown up with different attitudes toward it. I wonder.

    I would still miss him. His going would still have changed my life, torn a gaping hole in me. I would still have had to choose to learn to Live without him.

    But I wonder, would it have been different? I'll never know unless I try to help make it different for others.

  6. The documentary is called Griefwalker. I watched it this past weekend. I didn't see this blog post until today.

  7. Those who love much, will grieve much.