The Pearl

The creation of a pearl is one of nature's most inspiring examples of taking something bad and making it beautiful.

It starts with a grain of sand. The oyster, in order to protect it's internal organs from the intruding sand, covers it in a layer of nacre. It could have spit it out (and does, in some cases). The oyster could have succumbed to the unwanted sand and be destroyed by it. Instead, it chose to take it in, make it a part of itself, literally envelope it and make something beautiful. This beauty can then be shared with the rest of nature.

Death and grieving work much in the same way. It starts with something small, painful and intrusive, like death. It brings us to a crossroads and we have to figure out how to survive after being wounded. Do we struggle to spit it out and ignore it, only to eventually find that's not possible? Do we let it destroy us?

Or do we follow the way of the pearl and make it a part of us?

While natural pearls are extremely rare, there are several types of man-made pearls, depending on the type of mollusk and where the mollusk lives. The same is true of grieving. There are several ways to deal with death since everyone grieves in their own way. Sometimes, nature is simply too rough and the mollusk doesn't produce a pearl. Sometimes, the grief is just too much that we simply sit with a grain of sand etching away at our insides. Sometimes, the pearls don't look right. They can be matte, dark or dingy. In the same way, we can allow grief to change us and create something that isn't necessarily beautiful, but everlasting all the same.

Just like how the oyster can't run from the sand, we can't run from death. The death never undoes itself. Time keeps moving and we keep living. We adapt to life without someone, just as an oyster adapts to the presence of sand. Death and grieving become a part of us, whether we want it to or whether we acknowledge it. It's there.

After time, the painful and scratching grain of sand becomes coated with enough nacre that it becomes smooth. After time, the sting of death and loss becomes less. It's true that time heals all wounds in that it gives us practice in living when we didn't think it was possible. Eventually, that practice becomes life and the sand becomes a pearl.

When the pearl becomes large and the oyster can't handle it anymore, it spits it out. Likewise, eventually our grief will become so normal and so much a part of us that we can't keep it inside anymore. We will talk about those we lost. We'll share stories and laugh, we'll remember what they taught us and we'll become better people for it. Like the oyster shares the beautiful pearl with nature, we'll share our beautiful memories. We can take what started as something intrusive and painful and turn it into something meaningful that others can enjoy.

When you think about it, the oyster does a rather selfless thing. It takes something ordinary, spits out something extraordinary and doesn't ask for anything in return. It doesn't take credit or pride. It simply continues to exist. When something so distressing as death happens, it can be easy to focus on the pain we feel. After all, we didn't ask for it or deserve it anymore than the pearl deserves the sand. Grieving, however, doesn't have an agenda. Grieving doesn't care if you want it, need it or deserve it. It's there  regardless, just like the sand. Death, like the sand, isn't personal. It simply doesn't care. The sooner we realize that, the sooner we can start making a pearl.

When the pearl is done and gone, what happens to the oyster? Nothing. It simply continues to be an oyster. It is no better or no worse than before the sand happened. This is the one area where the oyster is missing something. We are forever changed after death. We are not the same person as before death happened. We have the ability to learn from our grief and then the blessing of being able to share it. This is why grief never ends, not because we are forever losing and feeling sad, but because we are forever changed. 

I have quite a few pearls of my own. This is unfortunate because it means there are many people that aren't here, people my children won't have the pleasure of knowing. However, I have some beautiful pearls that I can smile about and share with people. When I'm feeling lonely or confused, I can take out my pearls and remember what I've learned. I can remember that I'm strong enough to create something so beautiful out of something so painful. I can show off my pearls when others need to know that they have the ability as well. I hold them onto them dearly and keep them with me all the time. And I know, that in the end, I will leave behind some beautiful pearls for others.