Thursday, April 10, 2014

G is for Good Grief

Except really it is for bad grief. Or maybe just grief.

Grieving is hard. I do not like it.
Everything sets me off.
A little leaf on the ground with a bunch of other little leaves on the ground.
Sticks.
Mud.
Trees.
Birds.
"I wish I were a bird, she said. So you could fly away? No. So we could be together with no thoughts of yesterday."
Songs.
All the songs.

The tiny click of a lock makes me feel as though I'm being stabbed in the chest.
The smell of peppermint makes me cry.
The smell of rain makes me cry.
The smell of some of my clothes that I wore last week makes me cry.
The sound of the neighbors enjoying each other next door makes me cry.
Frisbees make me cry.

Sometimes I think of something that I want to say to someone. And that makes me cry.
Or I think of how it would be nice to do this or that down the road. And then I cry.

There are days when I just can't do this. It hurts too much.
And I all I do is ask WHY?
Why?
Why?
Why?

But there is never an answer.
Only "I don't know."


Write on!



1 comment:

  1. You summed it up perfectly I will never comprehend how people can be stoic - or expect others to be

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