Every once in awhile I cry. 

It doesn’t happen often but every once in awhile I’m overcome with sadness – at the state of the world, at the grief of my friends, and at the loss of loved ones.

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about two close family members that passed away very suddenly several years ago.  I’m not sure exactly what made me think of them…maybe it was the cyclist whizzing by in his racing suit on the street…maybe it was one of the photos around my house that happened to capture my gaze…or maybe it was someone’s familiar smile on the streetcar.  Whatever it was, both my brother-in-law, Kevin, and my Uncle Ed were on my mind.

Kevin was one of those people that everybody loved.  He was tall, handsome, athletic, kind…but most of all he was funny.  He had a dry sense of humour – a quick wit that often caught me off-guard and took me several moments to catch…then when I finally got his joke, I would really laugh.

He was also a genuinely good person.  You always knew exactly where you stood with him and he never pretended to be someone he wasn`t.  He was well-loved by everyone he knew.  He was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and passed away within 6 months of his diagnosis at the much too early age of 43.

Kevin’s memorial service was standing room only.  It was a testament to his life – a life well-lived and a man well-loved. Kevin had made the world a better place in the short time he was on this planet.

If you could write the story of your life, it would likely include wanting to make a difference in people’s lives, wanting to inspire others, wanting to be remembered as a person with honesty and integrity and wanting to love and be loved. These were all things Kevin did before his life ended much too abruptly. I thought about Kevin a lot last week.

And so I cry…

Just over a year after Kevin passed away, I answered the phone at work to learn that my Uncle Ed had suddenly been killed. Uncle Ed was the glue that held our extended family together and his death rocked our family to the very core. His house was often our meeting place; many years ago, we had a family reunion over the December holidays at his place. There were so many people he had to clean out his garage and buy heaters so we could all eat together.

There are so many great memories I have of Uncle Ed – of going for sushi with him, going Steelhead fishing along the banks of the Thompson River in British Columbia, and playing card games with 14 people at one time at his dining room table.

Uncle Ed had the kind of laugh that was totally infectious; it started low in his tummy and was so entertaining that soon enough, no matter if they’d even heard the joke, everyone around was laughing too. Our family is still reeling from the loss of a wonderful, loving, kind and funny uncle. This week I was thinking about Uncle Ed and how much I miss him.

And so I cry…

In my line of legal work, I often cry.  This past weekend I cried as I read about the verdict in the case involving a young Indigenous man whose life ended too soon at the hands of a White farmer.  I sobbed…the kind of body-shaking sobs that come up from deep within your soul.  The kind of sobbing that brought me to the floor, hugging my knees to my chest in a tight little ball.  The kind of sobbing the felt like it would go on forever and the tears would never stop.

This sadness…this deep exhaustion is all too common amongst those who are fighting systemic injustice.  And this sadness, anger, and deep outrage is what we are witnessing all over the world right now.  This is the despair of activism.  This is the despair that is often felt by those who are fighting against systemic injustice.  And those of us who are fighting both within and outside the system, often feel this exhaustion and despair deeply in our bodies, hearts and minds.

And so I cry…

I cry because the injustice in this world hurts my heart. One of my great strengths is that I feel deeply. People I know well and work with know this about me. I feel many things in the work I do. I feel guilty. I feel sad. I feel angry. I feel frustrated. I feel shocked. I feel surprised. I feel overwhelmed. I feel happy.

Most of all I feel inspired… I feel inspired by those who have walked before me, who walk alongside me, who continue to fight injustice and who keep getting up over and over again after being pushed down.

The most important thing that I’ve learned is that these moments of overwhelming sadness and grief are important.  It’s important to feel the pain and sadness of injustice deeply; it’s important to resist become desensitized to the suffering and pain of others.  

And so I cry….

Then I wipe away my tears, dust myself off and keep on going. I keep on working to heal my body from the personal losses I’ve suffered. I keep on working to strengthen relationships with those who I walk alongside.  I keep on writing to make a positive impact in this world.

It’s absolutely right to feel deeply and, when emotions well up inside, it’s absolutely right to cry.

And once those tears dry up, it’s important to be able to turn all of those emotions into what Todd Henry calls “productive passion“ – the kind of passion that fuels my soul, that propels us to think creatively about how to affect significant change in this world, and that can motivate us to call on others to join us in this life’s work so that people do not continue to die on our watch.

So by all means, let those tears flow…then afterwards use those tears to fuel your life’s work – to fuel your productive passion.  As Mahatma Gandhi says: “Be the change you want to see in the world.”

We would love to hear what you think of this article.  Post a comment below to let us know if your ability to feel deeply is one of your strengths too.