Hangovers

Many of us have experienced a hangover or two in our life...those times when we pay the price for overindulging...those times when, if the hangover is bad enough, we swear that we will never drink again. And yet, a day, a week, a month or perhaps more later, we often find ourselves overindulging once again.

This morning it occurred to me that grief, in a way, is a bit like a hangover. I had a rough day (well, a rough weekend), and as I sat with my coffee I physically felt as though I were hungover.  When hungover, I wake up exhausted, as though I haven't slept.  I wake up with a feeling of emptiness.  I may briefly feel a bit better, until I roll over or turn my head or move suddenly, and then another wave hits me.  These same feelings come with grief.  I wake up exhausted nearly every morning, regardless of how much sleep I have gotten.  I feel a constant emptiness in my heart and soul...at the center of my being.  And there are days when I feel a bit "better," only to be harshly reminded that I am not, in fact, "better."

Yet there are differences between hangovers and grief.  Hangovers are a consequence of choice.  We choose to overindulge, and consequently suffer a hangover.  Grief is a "consequence" of deep love.  We choose to love deeply, and thus we grieve deeply.  Hangovers are a reminder of poor choices we've made, while grief is often a reminder of the good in our lives.

I would never wish that I hadn't had Brady or Henry in my life.  Grieving their loss means that I loved them...that I had and still have something worth grieving.  I have the memories of their faces, the sound of Henry's giggle, and the feeling of both of them wiggling around inside.  And those memories are more than worth the emotional hangover of grief.