Grief Calls the Shots

I’d already been thinking a lot recently about the loss of my music, through fused joints in my fingers and wrists from disease. Since Kris Kristofferson died, my grief for songwriting has returned even more.

Sure, I could have someone else play guitar, since I no longer can, or I could use a contraption that is attached to the end of my guitar and helps me play a few chords (even though the changing of chords can be heard through it every time and even using that is uncomfortable for my hands). But it’s not the same and not what I’m grieving.

It’s the freedom to create musically in an unhindered way. It’s that part of myself that I can no longer access.

When I first heard that Kris had died – he had influenced my life and music hugely – the first thing I wanted to do was pick up my guitar and write a song. I don’t want to write songs on a piano or have someone else play for me, though I’m grateful for the many offers I’ve received for that. I want to write how I used to … and I can’t.

I still also grieve my darling grandmother out of the blue. I miss her so much, even though it’s been almost 25 years since she left this world.

Life sends us all grief to deal with.

It comes in many forms.

It can be the loss of an old part of ourselves or the loss of someone we loved. (This is also a loss of an old part of ourselves, as we can never again be the person we especially were with them.)

Grief is simply a magnitude of love.

I loved that part of me who created through songwriting. I truly loved her. She brought me joy and she brought me healing.

I loved my grandmother dearly too. Grandmothers are capable of a unique love. Mine had the most accepting and loving heart I could hope for in a grandmother.

If none of us loved, we wouldn’t feel the grief of loss.

But we must learn to live with it somehow.

Life calls us forward and while the grief accompanies us, often forever, we are also blessed with various forms of renewal along the way, and new chapters unfold.

Shane Howard, a beloved Australian singer/songwriter, has a song called “Grief’s a Lonely Thing”. I recommend you listen to it through your choice of streaming channels.

Grief is not something we can hand over to someone else, no matter how much opportunity we’re given to talk it out.

There’s no getting out of it.

There’s only growing through it and learning to live with the loss.

I’ve had a surprisingly huge number of emails over the years from people grieving their younger selves. Their inability to accept the changes in life translates to grief for their old selves. Almost all of us miss parts of our former lives, reminiscing about the good old days, and reflecting on how our younger selves looked or their physical abilities or their freedom or whatever.

We can’t get back a lot of things in life. That’s why it’s so important to try and live in the present time as much as possible. Even this time will likely be reflected upon with nostalgia when we’re older.

I miss my guitar-playing self a lot at times. It brings tears to my eyes to feel the loss. But I don’t want to live in the past.

There is still beauty to be found in this chapter of life.

It’s the same for you.

Your younger self is a memory.

Love them.

Be grateful for them.

But love the current version of you too.

Accept that your life must go on. Respect the time you have left.

Try and love the life you are creating now because it is playing just as much of an important role as every chapter.

And when grief hits, whatever its form, let the tears roll and empty. Then look around and find the beauty in your current life. It is always there if you look hard enough.

I wish you strength and courage,

Bronnie.

PS. The latest vlog has been my favourite so far to create. It’s called Finding Awe in Slow Living. Allow the gentleness and wonder of my world to nurture your beautiful heart. You can tune in here.

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