Grief – Inseparable


She knocks on the front door, but she really didn’t have to. I saw her crouching there a few days ago. I can feel her presence before she announces herself. I didn’t invite her; she simply comes.

She isn’t a respecter of persons; she visits you, too. She visits us all.

Sometimes, I feel she wants to own me, to swallow me. She’s cut grooves on my skin. I can trace the journeys from one loss to another.

I ask myself, is this how I want to define my days? By the distance between griefs?

Her name is Grief. And I don’t mean simply any kind of grief, as griefs are born through death, through suffering, through illness, through broken relationships, through poverty, and hopelessness, multiple forms of trauma, and countless other ways. I mean that she is born daily, in small ways and big ways.

She is everywhere and anywhere. I can’t escape her; none of us can.

Read the rest of my post over at The Mudroom Blog…