This new grieving process will affect people differently, but I imagine it will prolong the process.

We all spend so much time hiding our flaws. We hide the holes in our knowledge. We hide our insecurities. We hide our mistakes and hope no one finds out. We spend so much energy on what we do not want to show the world, and it eats away at the energy we have for what we do want to show the world.

From my vantage point, you either becomes a person who rises above grief, or you become a person who lets it rule your life. There are good days and bad days, but it seems to me that in the end, there is no in between. You either decide that you are going to find compassion in your own self where it was once absent, or you lash out at others. You either decide to allow your grief to stretch your capacity for love such that you see beauty where you did not see it before, or you see blame and hate and anger. You either become thankful for the small wonders that you would have earlier overlooked, or you are bitter for what you do not have.

We are all hurting. And when we go out into the world, we have to remember that we don’t always understand why someone is hurting, or what small thing might trigger an unresolved pain. Sometimes we don’t need to understand why someone is hurting to understand what we can do to help.

Today, nearing four years since his death, I am sure that Jonny’s death has made me a better person who is more capable of experiencing life.

While there is no beating grief, there is leveraging grief so that it increases your joy. When you do this, you see that your grief is beautiful. Embrace it.

I would like to tell them that the waves of grief happen unexpectedly. The hole in my gut has been a bit too prominent since hearing the news of Tyler Skaggs, and I imagine that it will be a few days before I can move it back into its rightful place.

In my experience, looking at grief as a personal journey creates a perspective that allows you to grow from your experience instead of feeling shacked by your experience.

My experience is that when you decide that different and less are synonymous, you fail to see the moments. You cannot see joy and beauty when you have already decided that your life is less-than.

I have been asked to write about my journey walking through the “stages” of grief. Something about this word—stages—doesn’t feel right.

I encourage you to give yourself permission to peek on the other side of grief every once in a while, and only if you are so inclined. You might see some brightness as opposed to the darkness you have assumed would stay with you always.