Adam and Eve lived happily in the Garden of Eden, where they enjoyed the goodness that had been prepared for them. After a while they made choices that thrust them into mortality, where they learned about pleasure and pain, natural consequences of mortal life. God said to Eve, "I will greatly multiply thy sorrow and thy conception; in sorrow thou shalt bring forth children," and to Adam, He said, "Cursed is the ground for thy sake; in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all the days of thy life." (Genesis 3:16-17.)

        Eve's joy and sorrow were both increased when she gained the capacity to procreate. Adam's lot was to till the stubborn earth, but his labors also fed him. These experiences of our first parents highlight the close connection between joy and sorrow, and their inevitability for all of us in this life. The process of becoming gods will give us experiences with grief that will build us up, even as they threaten to bring us to the ground.

        The gospel of Jesus Christ can offer solace to us during times of grief if we activate our faith in Him. We can be certain that He knows and understands our pain because of His own earthly experiences. Isaiah was shown the Savior's suffering and described Him as "a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief . . . Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows." (Isaiah 53:3-4.)

        As we reflect on the life of Jesus, it becomes clear to us that He can empathize with our deepest feelings. We know that His sacrifices in Gethsemane and on Calvary transcended any suffering we will bear. He said, in a revelation given through the Prophet Joseph Smith, "I, God, have suffered these things for all, . . . which suffering caused myself, even God, the greatest of all, to tremble because of pain, and to bleed at every pore, and to suffer both body and spirit." (D&C 19:16-18.) In grief also, He has set the example for us.

        Through revelation to the Saints in this day, the Lord has invited us to share our sorrow with Him: "If thou art sorrowful, call on the Lord thy God with supplication, that your souls may be joyful." (D&C 136:29.) Through prayer we can draw closer to Him and share our burdens.

        The purpose of this life is to give us experiences necessary to grow into godhood. Sorrow and grief are natural occurrences here. We are a small but important part of a great, temporal existence characterized by change. On earth our spirits are also shrouded and limited in understanding by the veil of mortality. Caught, as we are, in the middle of life, it is easy for us to lose our eternal perspective and see things only as they relate to our earth life. We are saddened by death and rejoice at birth, but perhaps if a newborn's spirit were given a voice, he would tell us that he cries sometimes while grieving the world he is leaving.

        This life is a series of beginnings and endings, some by choice and some by chance. At times we are jolted by the intensity of change or a heartbreaking loss, but most often, subtly and quietly, doors open and close. "Wow, what a grown-up boy you are," Aunt Katie says while stroking the hair of a four-year-old. His parents are startled to realize how quickly time has changed their toddler to a young boy. Yesterday they dressed and bathed him; today he can do it by himself.

        Grieving is often sparked by changes in life and can occur even when there is not a clearly apparent loss. I remember lying in bed the first night after moving to a beautiful new home, exhausted from the move and feeling a little bit sad. I thought, "Maybe this feeling means the move wasn't right for us. Maybe I made a mistake." Then I recalled experiencing this very same feeling the first night in the home we moved from, and the one before that, and when I traded in my old car, and when I bought a stereo at age fourteen, and at other times of change. One constant in the world is change. In the aftermath of changes, we juggle both the memory of the past and the reality of the present. Because our minds, bodies, and spirits do not always adapt as quickly as the world transforms around us, the past and the present are carried with us for a while with some confusion and discomfort. It is during this period of adaptation, between the way things were and the way they are, that we experience grief.

        Anger and depression indicate that the second phase of grief has begun. We angrily search to find a reason for the misfortune and try to place blame on others or ourselves. Life also seems to have a certain sad and empty quality to it; something or someone is missing and is missed. Such depression is a natural response to change and the adaptations it demands. We long for things the way they were and are still uncertain about what is to come. The consequences of the loss or change become clearer as more normal routines return. Little things occur in day-to-day life that prompt memories: a song on the radio, driving through a certain part of town, or seeing an old photograph, for instance. The hurt experienced on these occasions is part of healing. Each time the loss is recalled and we are flooded with emotion, we grow, painfully at first, but more easily with the passage of time. Some days it seems as though there is too much to endure, and we slip back into despair; but another morning our burdens are slightly lighter, and we move on. Our strength waxes and wanes. We bruise easily and are vulnerable.

        The final phase of grief is reconciliation—understanding and acceptance. We go on with life. We have not forgotten our loss, but because of it, we have taken a new direction. An understanding of what has happened to us may occur with time and the perspective it brings. There will be no explanations for many of us, though, except that we are human and live in an unpredictable, sometimes chaotic world. Waiting for understanding before we push ahead is not always possible. Life tugs at us again, sometimes playfully and sometimes poignantly, like an impatient child bidding for our attention. We need not be afraid; we can follow our instincts to join it again. Acceptance brings a release of the negative energy and ideas associated with grief. We recognize that persisting to carry them is only our burden and no consolation or tribute to our loss. The cycle of our life can then continue. We have grown from our experience and will love again.

        Ann and Rick had known since October that they were having a baby, and from the first hint of their potential new arrival, their lives changed. Sales of baby clothes and furniture suddenly caught their attention, and the most popular topic of their late-night pillow talk became names for the baby. Preparing to be parents eclipsed any other activities. Even the Christmas holiday became pink and blue that year instead of the usual red and green; for Christmas, Ann received maternity clothes, and she gave Rick a wind-up baby swing. Then, in late winter Ann learned there was to be no baby. Later, with Rick at her side, the doctor confirmed that Ann had miscarried a few weeks earlier. "The products of conception will have to be removed surgically," he said in a matter-of-fact voice. They looked at each other, shocked and devastated. "This is our baby he's talking about. How can this be?"

        That evening Rick and Ann sat in a hospital room and cried together, for their pain, for their dreams, and for their baby they had cherished and loved but would never see. Rick's sadness soon turned to anger. Why had this happened to him? He was keeping the commandments. He had always thought he would be a great father; he wanted it more than anything. Why had God chosen to hurt him in this way? He knew of plenty of folks who didn't want to have any more children, but they just kept coming. God could have kept this from happening; where was He? Rick faced this bitter disappointment without the comforting spirit of Christ because of his anger.

        Rick passed quite quickly from the first stage of grief, shock and denial, to the second stage, anger and depression. He remained mired in anger for some time, blaming God and others for a natural (and heartbreaking) event in his life. Only after many months did he accept this personal tragedy. He was then able to grow spiritually and emotionally again.

        When she arrived home, Linda learned her mother had been seriously ill for a few days prior to her death but had not seen a doctor. She wondered why her father had not insisted that she seek help. Why had he waited until she was almost dead to take her to the hospital? Linda began to feel betrayed and suspicious. She was devastated by the death and angry that it hadn't been prevented. She thought her father was negligent and heartless and wondered if he had wanted her mother to die. Linda withdrew from her family and friends, refused to be comforted, and continued to look for signs of her father's malicious attitude toward her mother. She found that living in her father's home brought back too many haunting memories, so she moved out and cut off contact with her family. Everything seemed to remind her of the loss of her mother, and she desperately searched for someone or something to take away her pain. Though Linda felt almost normal for short periods of time, depression would always return, especially around holidays or anniversaries. She began to think about suicide as a way to be with her mother again.

        Normal grief had turned into serious depression because Linda focused so much energy on remaining angry and on blocking attempts by others to comfort her. She encouraged depression by continually stirring the embers of her grief until they would erupt in flames, often fueled by her bitter feelings about her father.

        In the midst of a deep depression, Linda asked for professional help. She said at the outset of treatment that her mother's death was no longer an issue. While relating her story, though, her tears indicated she still had some healing left to do. Linda had been frozen in place the day her mother died; shock and devastation had not been replaced by other phases of the healing process. Reconciliation or other attempts to go on with life somehow seemed to indicate disloyalty to the memory of her mother. Heartbreak and anger were all she allowed herself to feel. Her first steps toward recovery were painful too. One day as Linda closed her eyes and imagined her mother's face, the therapist asked, "How would your mother want you to be feeling?" Tears gently slid down her cheeks as she said, "She'd want me to be happy, to feel close to my family and have good friends I could talk with." Linda realized that grief was carrying her away from her mother's dreams and wishes. Bitterness and sorrow were not a fitting legacy to her memory.

        No one whom we have loved would want us to spend our lives grieving about them. We can expect to be taken to the depths of sadness by the death of a loved one, but we do a disservice to that person's hope for our success and happiness by locking ourselves away. Vowing never to love again because we have lost our love is shortsighted and somewhat selfish. A much better tribute is to share with others the new appreciation for love and life that has grown within us.

        My little boy was despondent when his kitten suddenly died. They had been very close; they played to their mutual delight every day and slept side by side every night. A tearful little boy buried his friend one spring morning with his equally touched mother offering comfort. For days he would see Muffin's toys and cry a little, or call for his kitty, forgetting for an instant that he was gone. His mother suggested another cat, but how could he love one as much as Muffin? A few weeks passed and the hurt began to heal. One day he came through the door with a new kitten a playmate had found on the schoolyard the day before. It was tiny, scrawny, and unkempt, but somehow the kitten's need for love transcended my son's loyalty to the memory of his friend. His grieving completed, he could love again.

        God does not want us to grieve forever. As doors are closed by change, loss, or the passing of loved ones, we experience an opportunity to grow. My son learned about love and compassion through the death of his kitten. No one would have wished for or actively sought this experience, but his life was enriched by it. So it is with us. Since Adam and Eve, loss and change have been an intricate part of the human struggle and essential in our schooling to become gods. The challenge is to take our measure of sorrow, to know the pangs of the spirit it can bring, and to grow, refusing to become embittered and spiritually stunted. Perhaps grief is, most of all, an experience of the spirit.

        Just as loneliness is more than being alone, so happiness is more than being with someone else. Really satisfying relationships take time to build and a lot of nurturing. But even in relationships of substance, there are times when we must be alone.

        Loneliness does not equal unattractiveness, and being alone is not a signal that we are unworthy of anyone. Believing either of these ideas can lead to desperation, which is particularly unattractive to people who are happy with themselves, the kind of friends we want to cultivate.

        Scriptures have been cited occasionally in a manner that reinforces negative thinking about being alone, such as Genesis 2:18: "God said, It is not good that the man should be alone." Taken out of context, we might suppose that the life of single people was being condemned here, and, unfortunately, some have compromised important values to avoid being alone, believing that their failure to seek a mate in this life would lead to eternal condemnation. Clearly the scripture refers to Adam's particular need for Eve in order to fulfill his earthly purpose. Being alone certainly does not break commandments or indicate unrighteousness. The Bible records that Christ often sought time to be alone, to pray and reflect on His ministry.

        Being a single adult in the Church is not as uncommon as many people believe. Many good brothers and sisters have chosen not to remarry following the death of their mates, and many others have not felt impressed to marry for various personal reasons. We do not condemn them for making these choices, but are often not as kind in our self-judgments. These critical thoughts promote feelings that are more demoralizing and depressing than motivating.

        Existential philosophers teach that the recognition that we are all actually alone is both a great crisis and a great opportunity for growth in life: a crisis because the natural inclination of man seems to be toward depending on others, and an opportunity for growth because following the realization that we are alone, we can then shape life according to higher principles than seeking the approval of others.

        The title of a recent bestseller is Being Your Own Best Friend, good advice in any situation, but particularly salient during times of depression and loneliness. We can't wait for happiness until someone comes along who we believe can make us happy. This is the "Sleeping Beauty" fantasy; we wait passively to be discovered by our "handsome prince" (never thinking that we might have to kiss a few toads along the way!). Unfortunately, the kinds of people we want to be close to are looking for relationships with active, lively, and vibrant people, not for people who are desperately seeking to meet their own needs. Now is the time for each of us to prepare to feel close to someone by learning how to meet our own needs and becoming sensitive to ourselves. Being alone doesn't have to mean that we are unhappy, though we can certainly arrange it that way. We can each become our own best friend by doing things that we enjoy and treating ourselves well. We can treat ourselves now as we would like others to treat us.

        Perhaps the most important thing to realize about loneliness is that it is often brief and transitory. Though some individuals feel unattached and lonely for most of their lives, this is relatively rare. It is unrealistic, however, to expect to escape all feelings of loneliness, whether we are alone or with other people. Here are a few suggestions for overcoming these occasional feelings and fears:

        1. Concentrate on successful relationships. Some individuals refuse to use their friends for comfort or solace when they are blue. They search futilely for someone new to take their lonely feelings away. Usually, however, when people are feeling down, their capacity to form new relationships is low, and this leads to more desperate feelings of loneliness and frustration. Strive to cultivate and appreciate the friends you already have.

        2. Focus on quality, not quantity. Research has indicated that a person with one close and intimate friend is less apt to develop serious episodes of long-term depression than someone who has several "acquaintances." There is apparently psychological benefit in nurturing deep, lasting relationships. Some individuals have a pattern of collecting friends and admirers without taking the time to cultivate deeper feelings. They seem to hope that quantity can substitute for their lack of willingness or ability to commit to real intimacy. This need for more and more friends to help one escape loneliness becomes like a bottomless pit, and it is impossible to fill it with superficial relationships.

        3. Be realistic. No one will totally escape experiencing feelings of loneliness from time to time. Let us learn to accept them as natural and sometimes helpful signals about where we are in life.

        4. Spend quality time alone. We can use time alone as Jesus did, for personal reflection and growth or to become involved in satisfying and pleasant activities. It is doubtful that anyone comes to value being alone if he only engages in self-criticism or distasteful activities. A handy way to measure this is to ask ourselves, "Would I choose to be sharing this activity with someone else?" If the answer is no, perhaps we are making ourselves miserable and reinforcing the notion that being alone is unsatisfying and boring.

        Loneliness need not be overwhelming if we keep a realistic perspective about feeling lonely, cultivate the skill of enjoying time alone, and build relationships that can offer comfort and support.