If you're happy and you know it...

Most of the time, when you, my dear reader, come across one of my recent blog posts you begin to steel your heart. I've even been told by some of my friends that they have chosen to not read some of my posts because it makes them cry and exposes their own vulnerability. So maybe this post is for them. But I really believe that this is really targeting those who have been grieving their loss. This post comes from a speech I gave about a year after losing my daughter but it's still relevant today after losing my beloved. 

We all have something in common. You know what it is? It's how we treat a remote control when the batteries start to die. We begin by banging the remote on the arm of the chair, the palm of our hand, or the coffee table trying to get it to work a little better. Eventually it's just no use. You have to take the little battery cover off and spin the batteries to see if that works. Then you begin pushing the buttons a little harder. And when that doesn't work you use your best marksman's eye and really concentrate your aim while trying to "throw" the signal to the TV. The last thing you want to do is get up and go put new batteries in it. So, you leave the channel on the National Geographic documentary on the termite mounds in Australia. Eventually someone else will change the batteries for you. 

I know that, for a post about grief, that seems out of context. And, if you're reading this you may have been looking for comfort and not post on TV remote controls. But what I want you to focus on now is the battery. But let's look at the battery in a cell phone instead. 

When you first got your cell phone you could charge it and it would last you a good long time. The old flip phones, and even the old analog, heavy as a brick, phones would go for days before needing a new charge. But over time that full charge didn't last four days any more. In fact, after a couple of years you were lucky that the charge lasted all day. 

Our happiness is like that. We once knew what a full charge was like. It lasted a good long time. Then suddenly we find ourselves with a charge that doesn't last as long when it's full. But the charge is full. It's just that the full level isn't what it once was. Our bucket of joy can be full again, but the happiness doesn't stretch as far as it once did. But we can be happy. It's just a new level of happiness. 

But we can't be happy, can we? Isn't that an insult to our loved one? If we smile or, God forbid, laugh, won't people think we are over our loss? Well, based on my experience from seven years ago I can say that our loved one did not leave us so that we would be miserable. They want us to be happy just like they wanted us to be happy when they were at our side. We just feel guilty about having something or someone in our lives that could make us smile or laugh again. But it is what our loved ones want, isn't it?

Perhaps it's time to change our batteries. Perhaps it's time to realize that this new level of happiness is okay. Perhaps it is time to forgive ourselves for feeling happy or laughing and smiling. Perhaps it is time for us to thank our loved ones who left us for teaching us how to live, love, and laugh and for us to take that lesson and share it with others.