David Kessler, author on grief and loss, shares this parable:
“Picture a long, narrow dining room. The food is scrumptious, beautifully laid out. There are people surrounding the table. Everyone in the room looks gaunt, haunted, starving because the spoons in the bowls of food are at least a yard long. No one can eat. This is hell.
Then you visit the room next door; again, the food is scrumptious and beautifully presented. The mood is lively and festive and happy. People look robust and healthy. You look around. What is different? People are feeding each other with the long spoons. This is heaven.”
When my partner Roy was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, we had many conversations about what the future would hold in terms of his health and the length of his life. As I struggled for some element of control over the disease—a futile effort—and grieved his loss in anticipation of his death, it was he who provided the wisdom for me.
Our mission was to seek the abundance in life even as we knew that it would not remain, knowing that it was short lived and that it would hurt like hell. Dealing with death is not for the faint of heart. It is a practice that works only sometimes.
Feeding each other, as we grind through the grief and loss is deep and human and rich. It will take our breath away in the deepest sense. I am grateful to have learned this.