Gratitude unlocks the fullness of life. It turns what we have into enough, and more.
– Melody Beattie
A few years ago, I was back in my hometown on one of my regular return visits with friends, family, colleagues and oodles of kids. As fun as it was to catch up with everyone, it was also tiring—especially for someone who is now used to significant amounts of solitude.
My 10-day visit ended on the 14th anniversary of my husband John’s death. In the morning, I attended a memorial service for him (he was a police officer), went for lunch with his family then hopped on a plane and flew back to my own life on Vancouver Island.
It was only when I was back home again that I cried for the first time that day. But they weren’t tears of sadness. They were tears of gratitude for the incredible life I have somehow managed to create. I cherish the freedom to live where I want to live, do the work I want to do and still be able to return to my hometown for regular visits.
That it is the financial ramifications of John’s death (he died in the line of duty, so I receive his pension) that enables me to have this freedom is very much appreciated.
However, in my experience and observation, gratitude for what IS—versus dwelling on what we lack but want—is not necessarily a default attitude. Rather, it seems to be the human condition to want more instead of being grateful for what we already have.
I vividly remember the day after John died; my first day as a 32-year-old widow. I was standing at our dining room window, looking out at our Mountain Ash tree and I noticed how the yellow leaves and red berries contrasted so beautifully against the blue sky.
One of my older brothers came up and stood beside me.
“I’m thankful it’s a nice day today,” I heard myself say to him.
He handed me a cup of coffee. “You’re going to be okay, aren’t you?”
I nodded. “Yup…someday.”
I was right. My ultimate destination was happiness. I just had no clue of the heart-wrenchingly difficult emotional and psychological journey it would be to get there…nor how much work would be involved. Nor how long it would take.
But that’s a good thing. Hobbits would never leave home if they had any inkling of the dragons they would have to face.
I share the story of the dining room window because being able to recognize the beauty of nature and the small but significant gift of a sunny day (when another gloomy one would’ve done me in) because I suspect there is an important lesson there about the transforming power of gratitude.
Unfortunately, it took me a heck of a long time to learn it…and I still need reminders more often than I care to admit.
Because the truth is, after I walked away from that dining room window, I immediately began to question how I could notice beauty in the middle of such horrific sadness? My husband had just died…what kind of flake notices a pretty tree?
A flake who instinctively knew she had better figure out—fast—how to find something good in an incredibly bad situation, that’s who. But that, of course, is in hindsight.
What I didn’t realize then was that being able to appreciate beauty in the aftermath of a tragedy was not only a gift, it was also the key to getting out of the hell known as grief, sooner rather than later. Why?
Because what we choose to focus on, expands.
Now that nearly two decades have passed since John’s death, I have learned time and again that the more we focus on appreciating all that IS in our lives, the more good will come our way…but usually not until we learn to appreciate what we already have.
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Previously Published on Pink Gazelle
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