Sadness: A silent companion

In life, there exists an undeniable rhythm, a pulsing current that moves us forward, sometimes dragging us along, sometimes allowing us to glide. This rhythm is marked by an unspoken truth: joy is fleeting, a spark that appears in the high-noon of triumph but flickers out in the twilight of our struggles. Sadness, however, is the companion that lingers. It doesn’t ask for your permission, doesn’t knock politely at the door. Sadness is there, always, waiting to wrap its familiar arms around you.

I think of those moments when joy came to me, moments adorned with ribbons of laughter and garlands of achievement. The celebrations, the victories, the good news that felt almost too good to be true. Yet even in those moments, joy felt fragile, like a fragile glass bird perched on a windowsill. I couldn’t help but glance at it sideways, afraid it might shatter at the faintest gust of wind. And often, it did. The phone call with bad news came, the memory of a past mistake resurfaced, or the inexplicable heaviness of the human condition settled in like fog rolling in from the sea.

That is when I met sadness again, as if we had never parted. It didn’t come to chastise or to remind me of joy’s fragility; it simply came to be. 

Sadness is the one emotion that doesn’t require us to perform. When joy visits, it demands proof: a smile, a cheer, a toast raised in its honor. But sadness? Sadness sits with you in silence. It doesn’t ask for validation. It doesn’t mind the ugly cries, the unwashed hair, the days spent in bed staring at the ceiling. Sadness is patient. It will wait with you until you are ready to stand again.

There is something deeply human in that embrace. In the grand masquerade of life, sadness strips away the pretense. When you are sad, truly sad, you confront yourself in a way that joy seldom demands. You question. You reflect. You dig deep into the recesses of your mind, seeking answers to questions you didn’t even know existed. Why do we hurt? Why do we love? Why do we keep going when it feels easier to stop?

And perhaps this is why sadness never leaves. It is not here to torment us, though it often feels that way. It is here to remind us of our depth, of the vast, uncharted territories of our emotions. Sadness holds up a mirror and says, This is who you are, in all your flawed, fragile, magnificent humanity.

I think about the people who try to banish sadness, who run from it or drown it out with distractions. They tell themselves it’s a phase, something to "get over," a hurdle on the way back to happiness. But what if sadness isn’t the antagonist we make it out to be? What if it’s a teacher, a guide? What if embracing it, leaning into its weight, allows us to grow in ways that joy never could?

To embrace sadness is to accept the full spectrum of life. It is to understand that our existence is not defined by perpetual highs but by the ebb and flow of experience. Joy may visit us in fleeting bursts, but sadness, sadness is steadfast. It walks with us through every phase, holding our hand when no one else will, reminding us that even in our lowest moments, we are never truly alone.

Perhaps that is why sadness waits for us with open arms. It knows we will come, eventually. It knows that life, in all its complexity, will bring us back to it. And when it does, it will offer not a reprimand, but a quiet, unwavering embrace.