Grief is one of our greatest teachers.
It comes to break us open to something greater,
Something bigger than who we were yesterday.
It comes to shape us,
To carve us open,
To make space for something larger than the small self that we thought we were.
Grief is not the enemy.
It is love stretching beyond the boundaries of a body,
Of a life,
Into something eternal.
I want to take these teachings that I've learned through Martin Prechtel's work and I want to share with you a story in my life of how grief has transformed me and how I've seen it transform the lives of men throughout the world.
I want to take you back first to the moment that cracked me open and that was the moment that I lost my father when my father transitioned.
I stood in the hospital room listening to the sound of his breathing.
It was heavy,
It was labored,
Scratchy,
As if each inhale and exhale carried the weight of his entire life.
And then in a moment there was silence.
It was the kind of silence that is so loud it shakes you from the inside out.
We stood there,
My sister,
My mother,
My brother-in-law,
My father's sister,
And we sang May the Circle Be Unbroken as he took his last breath.
I had spent years bracing for that moment and I had convinced myself that I was ready.
I thought that I had made peace with my father's imperfections and the absence of him in my childhood,
The struggles that I saw him go through,
And my own complicated emotions about him.
But what I learned is that grief doesn't respect preparation.
It doesn't check your itinerary.
It comes in like a great storm,
Unannounced,
And it levels everything.
I was brought to my knees.
I remember particularly one time driving down the street and I had to turn over to the side of the road because so many tears were just rifling through me.
I felt like my cells were shaking in my entire body.
And in that humbling,
I saw grief for what it really,
Truly is.
It's a passage.
It's a doorway.
It's not a burden to carry,
But a river to be carried by.
Grief is not a burden to carry,
But a river to be carried by.
It's a great dismembering where we have the opportunity to remember who we are.
Grief is one of the most universal human experiences.
Yet in our modern world,
We have lost our ability to grieve well.
At its core,
It's a profoundly transformative spiritual practice that invites a conversation with our soul.
What I've seen,
However,
Is that we treat grief as if it's something to be managed,
To be controlled,
To be contained.
When a man has experienced a loss,
What I'll often hear someone say is,
Way to keep it together,
Or be strong,
Which is coded language that reminds a man to keep it together.
Because losing it means you're weak and unworthy of respect from the group.
It's this type of language that keeps us,
Men in particular,
From the gifts that grief can bring.
If we have the courage to grieve wholly,
And we have a community who supports us through the process,
Both of which are vital,
Courage and community,
We are not meant to grieve alone.
Our ancestors knew better.
They understood that grief is a communal act,
That to grieve is to praise,
As Martin Prechtel reminds us.
In many indigenous traditions,
Grief and praise are two sides of the same coin.
I love this analogy.
To grieve is to praise.
The depth of our sorrow is a reflection of the depth of our love.
To grieve fully is to honor what has been lost,
To sing its name into the bones of the earth,
To let it echo through the generations.
Yet what do we do instead?
We push grief into the shadows,
We isolate,
We tell ourselves,
Be strong,
Get back to work,
Don't burden others with our sadness.
We make grief small when it was always meant to be vast.
But imagine if we allowed ourselves and we taught our children to grieve openly.
Imagine if we,
As fathers,
As leaders,
As human beings,
Reclaimed the sacred practice of grief.
What if instead of numbing ourselves,
We let grief crack us open,
To deepen us,
To grow us?
What if we saw grief not as something to overcome,
But as a portal to wisdom?
Because here's the truth as I've come to see it.
A culture that does not know how to grieve does not know how to love.
A culture that does not know how to grieve is a culture that does not know how to love.
And a leader who cannot hold grief cannot hold life itself.
We stand at a threshold,
Both as individuals and as a society.
The times are changing.
The world is heavy with unprocessed grief.
Grief for lost loved ones,
For opportunities that never came to be,
For childhoods that weren't what they should have been,
For the state of our planet,
For the deep ancestral wounds that we carry in our blood.
And yet,
And yet,
We still try to keep moving forward without tending to the grief that weighs us down.
But there's another way.
What if we learned to grieve well?
What if we made space for it?
We made space in ourselves,
And we made space in each other.
What if we let our families,
Our teams,
And our communities,
Not by pretending that we have it all together,
But by showing them the depth of our humanity?
Martin Prechtel tells us that grief is like a song.
And just like any song,
It needs to be fully sung,
Held in the air,
Allowed to be heard.
When we grieve well,
We do not just heal ourselves.
We heal those who came before us and those who will come after.
So today,
I leave you with this invitation.
When grief knocks at your door,
Do not turn it away.
Invite it in.
Sit with it.
Let it move through you.
And allow yourself to be held by others in the process.
Because on the other side of grief is something far more powerful than comfort.
There's transformation.
Let us reclaim the art of grieving.
Let's do this together.
Let us sing our sorrows as songs of praise.
And in doing so,
Let us make this world a place where love is not just spoken,
But fully felt.
Take a deep breath with me,
And allow these words to settle.
Thank you.
