Lost

Grief

And hush’d my deepest grief of all,

When filled with tears that cannot fall,

I brim with sorrow drowning song. Tennyson. In Memoriam

Loss is difficult. It’s hard, it’s upsetting and worst of all it catches you of guard. 

The one thing harder than loss: grief.

Grief is your non-judgemental friend that shows up uninvited. They gate-crash parties, disturb your bath time, calls before bedtime or before a job interview, take the spare seat at your table or sit opposite you on the train.

The other thing to know about grief is that it is varied. And this is where it becomes difficult.

Grief can be quiet, solitary, thoughtful, empty, angry, headstrong, organised, disorganised, sociable, tearful, hungry, sick, tired, wide awake, drunken, reckless, sensible… Gosh grief can be just about anything.

It can be any combination. There is no “correct form” for grieving, grief knows no etiquette. And that is ok. It really is.

For me, the hardest part of grieving is other grievers.  You know, like family members. They’re a pain in the neck. And that’s an understatement.

My friend grief is quiet, empty, organised, and distant: in a nut shell doesn’t like company. My sister’s friend grief is sociable, lonely, and fast paced: the opposite to mine. Do you see the problem?

When emotions are fragile, walking the fine line people upsetting others and grieving your own way is so delicate it seems impossible.

Loosing Daddy was peaceful, calm, it passed by without trauma. The grieving is turbulent, unpredictable, it will last a lifetime.