Canadian figure skater Joannie Rochette will complete what she came to do tonight in the free skate competition at the 2010 Olympics in Vancouver. And she is expected to skate with the same grace and resolve that she did two days ago – skating despite overwhelming grief.

My heart rallied for Rochette as I watched the Canadian skater glide and twirl over the ice Tuesday night, two days after her mother died of a heart attack. Therese Rochette, just 55, had been her daughter’s biggest booster and her inspiration as an ice skater. She and her husband had come from their home in Montreal to cheer on their only daughter, the reigning world silver medalist and six-time Canadian national champion.

Rochette skated through her grief under the Olympic glare of millions of empathic eyes. It was an emotionally wrenching and elegant performance during the Ladies Short Program Figure Skating. Her father applauded his daughter for each flawless move, the Lutz-double toe combination, trip flip and double Axle. She tried to smile triumphantly after skating for what must have been a most difficult two minutes and 50 seconds, but her smile quickly dissolved into the swell of emotions inside of her. She bent over and sobbed.

Later when asked about her emotions, the 24-year-old who was living her dream replied: “Words cannot describe them.”

                 AP photos

Grief is a powerful force. It affects each of us differently. Sometimes it falls on us like the steady drip of a summer shower, washing over us, cleansing us; other times it strikes us like a devastating hurricane, uprooting us temporarily, sometimes forever.

Some of us are paralyzed by it; others of us are propelled to do, to keep the momentum of our lives moving. At least  for now. It’s almost like we have to contain the grief before we can release the grief, to tame it so it doesn’t consume us until we are ready to make space for it.

Joannie Rochette’s public skating resonated with me. Sometimes, I’ve have skated through my own grief, doing what needed to be done  in the moment  to honor my mother, my father, my brother and my friend. Sometimes, it was all I could do. But after the public reprieve, the private work of grief does come; it’s hard to stop it. At least for me.

How do you cope with your grief?

Related posts:

1. Death’s grief, hope and accountability