At first it was an abyss. A black hole. Sucking everything in. Where am I? What’s happened? I can’t see, I can’t feel, I can’t think. I’m not hungry. I’m not sleepy, I’m not myself.
Then it was waves, breaking over me constantly.Knocking me down and rolling me over and over the water, drowning in an ocean of loss. The loss. It wore me out. I couldn’t wake up.
Then it was waves, everyday. A moment to breath then a wave, shifting sand, sharp rocks. Thinking I’m ok, but I’m not.
Now it is uneven ground. A dip, or hole tripping me, turning my ankle, bringing me to my knees. Grief is physical. It’s brutal and exhausting.
A word that means, brace yourself for the struggle of your life. It’s being tossed overboard in a storm and struggling to shore.
