Shattered by grief

Grief makes everything more vibrant.

It turns up the volume on the rest of our lives. Things that are wrong or important pop. Unanswered needs or desires scream through pounding veins. Through the haze of despair, things can become more evident, if only through the deep well of emotion we are experiencing. Everything is sharper as the last inhale and exhale by one so loved is watched, knowing it will never come again. How precious, something that is taken for granted most days becomes.

When grief shakes the soul, everything becomes dislodged. Creativity becomes stagnant and in its place a dull ache throbs that never seems to cease. Creativity at times becomes the enemy as it opens the wounds, feelings seeping like dark fingers into the heart. Focus is shifted and busy work is employed to take the eyes away from emotions and to staunch the pain, if only for a moment. We learn to live anew, testing the waters of a fresh reality void of the presence we held so dear. Everything we were once used to becomes foreign soil.

Grief puts us in the body, our minds clouded to rational thought at times.

Our hearts are deep pools of fathomless sadness, prone to sudden storms that render us powerless in their tides. Human beings by our very definition are living on borrowed time. But that doesn't stop us from trying to steal every extra moment that we can from the fingers of death when those last days are encroaching. We become expert thieves, bargaining for seconds and treasuring them above gold. Even though we lose everything at some point or another, our families, our relationships, and eventually our bodies, it doesn't stop us from thinking we can control it all to even a small degree and snatch a precious second back to keep.

And yet, is there anything more human than suffering at the loss of one so loved?

The constant heartache a reminder of the fleeting nature of this embodied experience on planet Earth and our brief stay here. Our bodies remain behind to become one again with the soil, but our souls fly free. Where they go, no one truly knows. Perhaps they exist within the ache of memories inside the hearts of those left behind to endlessly mourn. Maybe there is a bright world somewhere beyond the known horizon where pain no longer exists and happiness fills the air every day. Maybe both.

To be touched so deeply by love means eventually grief will knock on the door of the heart as we are forced to say goodbye. It is inevitable. In the end, there is never enough time. We search for a way to give a little more love, to hang on a little longer. We bargain with a silent sky for one more minute, one more embrace. Shattered by grief, we pick up the pieces of our broken heart with shaking fingers and force ourselves to stand. Not because we want to; but because it's all we can do.