After ALS Part 2: "The More You Lose, The Bigger Your Heart Gets"

I wanted to record some thoughts I have been having about the heart.  I have been someone more about the head than the heart for a lot of my life. I think that is how most of us navigate early on - using our natural inclinations to help us move through life.  Since I am a "head" person, I would analyze things heavily and relied on logic to deal with life's twists and turns. This worked out pretty well, but possibly robbed life of some joy, while providing some stability to deal with challenges. After getting terrible grades one semester in college, and being told to take a semester off, I was evaluated by a team of education consultants, psychologists, etc . One of their conclusions was that I lacked "joie de vivre."  Which on the one hand, is how my low-key, analytical personality can come off. But on the other hand, what did they expect from a 19 year old in that situation?

One of the things I have noticed is that some of the things that I have experienced in life, both good and bad, have changed the balance between head and heart through which I experience the world. I think first of my mother of course, who is in many ways my opposite: extroverted, heart-driven. In spite of her imperfections, she had things to teach me about heart, most of which I either didn't see or resisted until later in life. And of course my grandmother (mom's mother), who I spent many formative years with, living with her, my mom, and my aunt Sally from age 1-6, as well as being my main family contact during boarding school. Ganny (as I called her), was not like mom and Sally at all really (they got their personalities from their gregarious father). But we connected, and in spite of her coming off as severe, she definitely had a soft spot for me. So that became a lesson that love can come in many different forms.

Falling in and out of love has been a heart-expanding experience, at least in retrospect. But when I really noticed this phenomenon in me was having children. They opened up a place in my heart that I didn't even know existed (although evolution surely did). I have been telling people about that feeling for years, often people with or having kids. Being married and raising children was enough of a challenge that I probably was a bit closed off from some of what my ex-wife might have had to teach me. I was just trying to get through the day(s), and when stressed, I revert to mostly analytical logic.

Then I met Alisa. She was very much a heart-driven person, and as my love for her grew, I became much more open to learning from her. She helped my heart grow further.  Our love was so strong that we both felt confident we would spend the rest of our lives together. Of course we had no idea that Alisa's life would be cut short by #ALS. She used to joke that she planned to live to 114. But she taught me much about emotional intelligence, a lot of it simply through observing how she navigated relationships and the world. This continued through the brutal process of her disease progression. Her deep, wailing pain was balanced by her continuing sense of humor and infectious laugh. Her relationships were inspiring for sure, both how she continued to nurture them, and how people came to her aid.

So just being with her, both in sickness and in health, expanded my heart knowledge, understanding, feeling and knowing. It increased my emotional intelligence. But caring for her during her sickness also radically expanded my heart, again showing me parts of my heart that I did not know existed. If someone had asked me whether I would be able to be the primary caregiver to someone with ALS, I would have had serious doubts. My mom even expressed surprise that I was planning to stay with her. It was actually never even a decision on my part. I loved her and I was going to care for her. 

Which brings me to the title of this post, which is from an NPR interview with a producer of a recent fantasy movie. It didn't have anything to with the movie, but was prompted by the interviewer asking about the loss of his house in the recent LA fires. It just really struck me, as I had not heard that said in that way before. It struck me as a very positive take on loss, but it also occurs to me that not everyone responds in this way to loss. People can become bitter, as opposed to more empathetic and understanding. But, as I've said before, I am a firm believer that there is no right or wrong way to grieve (other than to not grieve), and I suppose there is no right or wrong way to be after loss.

A thought from Andrew Garfield about grief has stuck with me as well. He said something along the lines of, grief is the love that will remain unexpressed, and that grieving is a way to honor and remember our loved ones. No doubt this is why people take action, like starting foundations, giving tributes, and finding other ways to honor a loved one. It is somewhat of an outlet for the love that wants to be expressed.

I feel like this is a good place to end this post, but I do want to flag the idea of writing a corollary post about people who have experienced loss being better able to relate to others experiencing loss. Obvious perhaps, but again, not everyone will respond in that way.