In last week’s post (“St. Valentine & The Flame”) I reflected on grief as a measure of love, and what the experience of grief can teach us about how to love.
Particularly when the loss concerns someone special, grief splits life into the time before, and the time after, the “Flame” goes out. Florence and I had our lives demarcated this way, as did our friend whose brother had died. It also happened to a dear friend of ours, whose husband was diagnosed with terminal cancer in his twenties, shortly after she learned she was pregnant. Though many beautiful things later happened in her life, we did not have a true understanding of how “before” separates from “after” until the tragic death we ourselves experienced, some years later.
The traumatic cleaving away of “before” from “after” is captured in Tolkien’s The Return of the King. We know his writing was deeply influenced by his experience on the front lines of the First World War. I wonder what deep pains were stirred when he wrote the Trilogy’s most heart-wrenching words, spoken by Frodo, after the destruction of the One Ring:
“How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on, when in your heart you begin to understand…there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend. Some hurts that go too deep…that have taken hold.”
As Frodo explains to Samwise, his physical and psychological scars are the wounds of sacrifice:
“I tried to save the Shire, and it has been saved, but not for me. It must often be so, Sam, when things are in danger: someone has to give them up, lose them, so that others may keep them.”
Again, Tolkien and the Great War. For years, I imagined the basis of heroism to be courage, and I wondered how one finds such courage. Is it something you are born with? Or taught? Of late, I am starting to understand that the basis of heroism is in one part courage, but in much greater measure, also love. It is taught that “There is no greater love than this, when a man lays down his life for his friends.” Though Frodo models this, I find it to be a very hard teaching.
For those of us grieving some form of loss – of a loved one, a lost opportunity, a broken relationship, a forgone joy, or a season of life – a byproduct of our grief is the opportunity to travel Frodo’s journey in reverse. For Frodo, a heroic choice led to sacrifice, and the sacrifice to grieving. But for those who grieve, as shared in “Flame”, grieving seeds empathy. Over time, this empathy coaxes forth love, which is the foundation of sacrifice, which is at the heart of heroic choice.
Sometimes, heroism is running into burning mountains.
But often, it is loving someone enough to do what is needed, no matter the cost.
This Valentine’s Friday, I want you to know that you are loved enough that there is One who would do so for you.
J/Jn 15:13
P.S. This post was written weeks before the L.A. wildfires. My heart goes out to the many victims and those who lost all they had. Thank you, to everyone who helped in ways big and small, seen and unseen.
What a gorgeous essay. I don't know how one essay can make me feel both heartbroken and encouraged at the same time.