John Green recently released his new book, Hollywood, Ending. It was his first jump back into fiction after several years (his nonfiction is also well worth checking out), and it was lovely to read his stories once again. I’m quite a big John Green fan. I find his writing to be similar to watching a professional runner. They run with such ease that I watch and think I could do it too, but when I try, I realize how much incredible skill those runners have. The same goes for John Green’s writing. When I read his books, it makes so much sense that that particular story exists; it feels like it's always been there. But the more I sit with it and try writing myself, the more I realize just how spectacular a writer John Green is.
As expected, several parts of Hollywood, Ending jumped out at me. One part was when a character tells another they are “crossing through a hard time.”
And I’ve never said it like that before, but I think I always will now. Crossing. I like that word. I’ve usually said “going through a hard time,” and I like “crossing” more because it suggests movement. And that there is another side.
In John Green’s case, the “hard time” was grief. Grief is one of those emotions that, once it enters, I’m not always confident I’ll ever be without it again. And, in a way, experiences that have caused me grief do usually come back and visit from time to time. But that initial consumption of grief can be overwhelming, consuming, and crushing.
But when I think of it as “crossing,” I’m better at giving space to a beginning, a journey within, and another side I’ll eventually reach.
For whatever reason, a visual from a 2012 trip to Colorado comes to mind. We visited a site with a very sturdy bridge crossing a gorge. So you parked on one side, walked around, then crossed the bridge to check out the other side. I don’t love heights, so no matter how sturdy a bridge is, I will question whether it can hold me as soon as I start the trek to the other side.
But as I crossed this bridge, my fear peaked, then settled in. I would never say that I felt calm at any point while I was still on the bridge, but my fear did reach a point where it settled in. And then I kept taking steps. Because I’m crossing the bridge. Eventually, I made it to the other side. My feet settled back into sturdy earth, with no plunging drop-off on either side. And I found that, despite my fear, I did, indeed, cross the bridge.
And I think crossing through grief looks a lot like crossing the bridge. It never really feels good. It’s never easy. But with continued steps, even the smallest, you eventually cross.
This idea holds for any emotion, really. Anger, defeat, awe, joy, irritation, sadness- all of them. All emotions are a “crossing through.”
So, if you find yourself in the midst of a hard time, through whatever emotion that may be. Know that you are crossing it. I don’t know how far you are across the bridge, or how big your steps are, but I do know you are crossing it.
And that other side will come.
