Here’s the thing about grief. It feels different every day.
You wonder when you lay your head down to sleep which world you’ll wake up in. On your new daily barometer, will your grief be mild or strong?
Will you wake up with tears on your pillow? Or will you open your eyes and smile at the birds singing outside?
Every day is just another page in this chapter called grief.
There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love. – Washington Irving
Lately I’ve taken to spreading out a really soft throw on top of my bed quilt. On top of that I add my favorite soft blanket.
When I go to bed, instead of sleeping on the sheets, I lie down on the soft throw. Then I cover myself with the soft blanket.
It’s like a comfort sandwich.
Every time I hear of someone’s loss, I always say: Be sure to be good to yourself right now.
I’m finally remembering to take my own advice.
I like my comfort sandwich. I sleep like clouds are holding me up in the sky. I feel softness all around me.
Last night before I fell asleep, I started uselessly ruminating over whether I had pet Abi enough. If I had shown her enough affection and physical love. I loved her so very much, but did I stop and show and tell her enough? Surely I did???
But what if I didn’t?
I’m busy. I am online. Why didn’t I shut down the computer more?
Why didn’t I set aside certain hours when I would just shower her with attention till she grew tired of me?
I don’t know why, but these things I torture myself with. Is this part of grief, that you mentally and emotionally pound yourself with the only weapon you have available?
Which is regret.
Grief is a normal and natural response to loss. It is originally an unlearned feeling process. Keeping grief inside increases your pain. – Anne Grant
This got stuck in my mind and repeated itself over and over like a broken record.
And the worst thing about it is, you will never know, and you could not change it if you did.
Those hours in time are irretrievable. Locked in a box never to be allowed to see the light of day again. Because now they’re just memories.
Grief is a sort of madness. It leads you places you thought you’d never go. It twists your mind until you can’t think straight. It threatens to take your sanity.
We try to hold off loss. But loss is the price we pay for love. And once you open yourself to love, you can’t outrun loss.
It always eventually catches up to you, holds you still, and makes you remember that you are not in control. Just in case you thought you were.
Thank goodness, like the trees, we can bend in the wind. Or we’d be a mound of broken branches scattered on the ground.
We can bend, which means that we can survive in circumstances of enormous pain and suffering.
Grief changes shape, but it never ends. – Keanu Reeves
After loss, naturally grief sets in. Like an iron branding you.
The shape of grief molds you.
You are forced to sit beside loss and feel the pain. All over you. Inside of you. In front of you and behind you.
We cannot send it away. It has a will of its own. And we are just along for the ride.
Wherever it chooses to take us.
“So it’s true, when all is said and done, grief is the price we pay for love.”
― E.A. Bucchianeri
NOTE: One of you sent me this video explaining what grief does to the brain and body. Turn on your sound and click here to watch it.