The Collected Regrets of Clover

by Mikki Brammer

Grief plays tricks on you that way—a familiar whiff of cologne or a potential sighting of your person in a crowd, and all the knots you’ve tied inside yourself to manage the pain of losing them suddenly unravel.

“I mostly regret putting the needs of others ahead of my own.

“The truth is, grief never really goes away. Someone told me once that it’s like a bag that you always carry—it starts out as a large suitcase, and as the years go by, it might reduce to the size of a purse, but you carry it forever. I know it probably sounds clichéd, but it helped me realize that I didn’t need to ever get over it completely.”

“Don’t let the best parts of life pass you by because you’re too scared of the unknown.” One last wink. “Be cautiously reckless.”

Grief, I’d come to realize, was like dust. When you’re in the thick of a dust storm, you’re completely disoriented by the onslaught, struggling to see or breathe. But as the force recedes, and you slowly find your bearings and see a path forward, the dust begins to settle into the crevices. And it will never disappear completely—as the years pass, you’ll find it in unexpected places at unexpected moments. Grief is just love looking for a place to settle.

The secret to a beautiful death is living a beautiful life.

And instead of constantly asking ourselves the question of why we’re here, maybe we should be savoring a simpler truth: We are here.