Sometimes grief sits beside me and I wonder why, at that particular time, it’s not crushing my heart. Those are the days it just glides at my side.
Sometimes it sits on my chest, invades my limbs and sucks my motivation. Those are the days it weighs me down.
Sometimes it slaps me in the face and throws me in a dark hole.
Sometimes it makes my heart swell up and feel like it’s going to burst.
Sometimes grief leaves me on the verge of tears and I feel on edge.
Sometimes it brings me a memory that makes me smile.
Sometimes it takes a vacation and I’m left to wonder when it will come back.
Sometimes it makes me feel lonely and isolated even in a very large crowd.
Sometimes it shows me a completely different side of life I wouldn’t have noticed before.
Sometimes it makes me feel like I’ve landed in a new life.
Sometimes it reminds me that it’s better to have loved and lost.
Sometimes it reminds me how short life can be and that I could be gone tomorrow.
Sometimes it makes me feel rushed like I must fill my life with meaning because I’m running out of time.
Sometimes it makes me sentimental, empathetic and sappy.
Grief literally feels like an extension of myself that I never knew existed until my son’s suicide awakened it. And I know it will always be with me in some form or other till the day I die.
Very well said. I feel the same.
Amen. I have the rushed feeling constantly. I am hampered emotionally and still have lingering PTSD. But I can’t get anything done fast enough, and can’t give myself a break.
Such a catch 22 sometimes isn’t it?