"Why Is It That Grief or Sadness Is Always on Our Minds?"

The autumn breeze rustled through the trees, carrying with it the scent of damp earth and the whispers of days long gone. Isaac sat on the old park bench, his eyes fixed on the horizon where the sun was sinking into the hills. He had always loved this time of year, but lately, even the beauty of nature couldn’t shake the heaviness in his chest.

It had been months since his father passed away, yet the memories of their last moments together haunted him. The world had moved on, as it always does, but Isaac felt trapped in the same moment, over and over again. Grief, like a shadow, followed him wherever he went.

At home, there wasn’t much comfort to be found. He lived alone, save for his two cats—Midnight, the sleek black one, and Snow, the soft white one. They were his only companions. Midnight, with his quiet, watchful eyes, and Snow, with her gentle purring, were always there for him in their way, curling up beside him on cold nights or brushing against his legs when he felt lost.

His friends had drifted away after his father’s death. “It’ll get better with time,” they had said, but they were now just voices on the phone, fading with every passing day. Isaac smiled and nodded when they offered reassurances, but deep down, he knew it wasn’t that simple. He had his cats, and that was all.

Grief wasn’t something you could outrun. It clung to your heart, seeping into your thoughts even in moments of happiness. And for Isaac, it was always there, a constant weight on his mind.

One evening, after feeding Midnight and Snow, Isaac found himself thinking about something his father used to say. “We carry our sorrows like stones in our pockets. Some are heavy, some light, but they’re always there.” He hadn’t understood it then, but now, in the wake of his loss, it made perfect sense.

Grief, sadness—it wasn’t just an emotion that came and went. It was a part of the human experience. It shaped people, teaching them lessons in ways that joy couldn’t. It sharpened their understanding of life and made them more compassionate, more resilient. Yet, at the same time, it was exhausting.

Isaac didn’t want to forget his father. That was the thing about grief—it was tied to love. The deeper the bond, the heavier the sadness. And so, his mind clung to the sorrow because, strangely, it kept his father close. The pain reminded him of what he had lost, but it also reminded him of how deeply he had loved.

Still, Isaac wondered, why was it that grief felt so permanent? Why couldn’t it fade, at least for a little while, to give his mind some rest?

One day, while sitting in his usual spot in the park, a stranger approached and sat beside him. She was elderly, with kind eyes and a gentle smile, and she noticed the sadness that lingered in Isaac’s expression. After a few moments of silence, she spoke softly.

“Grief has a way of staying with us because it’s tied to our memories, our love. It’s a reminder of how much we cared. But sadness—well, that’s a different thing. It’s a feeling that tells us we’re human, that we’re alive.”

Isaac looked at her, surprised by the wisdom in her words.

“Do you know why it feels like sadness is always on our minds?” she continued. “It’s because we are always thinking. Our minds are restless, trying to make sense of things that often don’t make sense. We try to understand the ‘why’ of things, but some things aren’t meant to be understood. They’re just meant to be felt.”

For the first time in a long while, Isaac felt like he could breathe. He still carried the weight of his grief, but the stranger’s words offered him a new perspective. Grief wasn’t something to fight against, but something to live with. And maybe, in time, it would grow lighter.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Isaac stood up, ready to head home. Midnight and Snow would be waiting for him, their soft companionship the only comfort in his otherwise silent house. When he arrived, he picked up Midnight and Snow, settling into his old rocking chair in front of the fireplace. The warmth of the fire flickered, casting soft shadows on the walls, while his cats curled up in his lap.

Isaac rocked gently back and forth, the weight in his heart still present but softened by the rhythm of the chair and the warmth of his furry companions. He knew the sadness wouldn’t leave him completely, but now he understood that it was okay. It was a part of him, just like the memories of his father. And maybe, just maybe, the weight in his heart wasn’t something to be feared—it was a reminder of how deeply he could feel.

Isaac finds solace in the quiet company of his two cats and the comforting presence of the rocking chair and fireplace, adding a final layer of peace to the story.

God Bless Us All...

Jacob M