Hi Grief, It’s Me, And I’ve Got Nothing Nice To Say To You

Grief is a motherfucker.

Grief is something one should never have to factor into daily life. If you are one of the unlucky, you know this burden. My grief is different than Brads grief and if you hold grief, yours will be different, too. Yes, I’m aware grief has stages; I teach stages of grief to the public.

Such irony.

All I want to say now is, that grief is a mess. Grief is smiling at the park and laughing with friends and crying the entire way home. Grief is forcing yourself to pretend everything is normal, just to get through the goddamn day.

Grief is putting your pain aside to comfort those who share in your loss, only to pick it up again and carry a heavier load than before. Grief is experiencing true and wonderful joy, then having the sobering recall that people are missing who should be sharing in that joy.

Grief is too embarrassing to share.

Grief is what pisses all over your parade. Grief is tiring; it’s putting a shitload of energy into something that used to take no energy at all. Grief is playing with hot wheels in the spare room and smelling clothes and torturing yourself with what could have been.

Grief is the darkness cast over ones face after a long, normal day that has a giant oozing cold sore hanging from their lip. Nobody says anything about it but it’s so obvious it’s there…just fucking up the beautiful face of life its camped out on.

Grief is infuriating, lonely, complicated messy and simple.

Mostly, grief is beautiful.

And humbling, and real.

Grief is love expressed in its purest and most authentic form.

It’s raw, unequivocal love in the absence of happiness.

Hi grief. You’re a motherfucker.