One of the stories from my childhood involves an overnight at my grandmother's house. I was always conscious of not hurting anyone's feelings, but I was so homesick that night I didn't think I could bear it. As I lay in bed I started crying, softly at first so Granny wouldn't hear me, but hear me she did. When she came upstairs and asked me what was wrong, I suddenly remembered hearing somewhere that people often cried when they were happy, and I blubbered, "Granny, I'm just so happy to be here!"
That's how I felt this weekend. I went to a visitation, a wedding, and then a memorial service. Through it all my tears waited right at the corners of my eyes, and sometimes they just got so impatient they spilled over. They were tears of sadness, sure, but they were also tears of gladness. Sadness at the loss of life, gladness at hearing the impact these people made on others. Sadness at the loss of our children's childhood, gladness at the blush of young love. Sadness at the beautiful music, gladness at the beautiful music. Sadness and gladness are so closely linked as to be inseparable sometimes.
Through all the poignancy of the weekend's activities, I have to say that in the end, I was happy to have been there.
3 comments:
Is it interesting .... sweet & sour, salt & pepper, ying & yang, happiness and sadness?
Opposites that intensify the essence of the other.
I LOVE that phrase, "opposites that intensify the essence of each other." Thanks, Mit, for the mot!
"sadness at the loss of our children's childhood"
that goes to my core, but also pure thankfulness for having been allowed to have them at all.
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