For The Ones Who Don’t Understand Grief.

Me Inclusive.

I have come to the sad conclusion that grief is beyond me and this mission of mine, to comprehend grief is mostly heading to the rocks. I have thrown in the shovel, I am done, through with my mission to explain my grief, through with googling how to cope with grief, done with trying to find my way around it. Really, I am.

I came in contact with grief five years ago, a personal form of grief. Over the years I have met other forms of grief. My grandmother’s passing last October, my old friend’s sudden death in August. It’s an unending circle. I have tried to conquer the personal form but it’s really a futile attempt.

Sometimes grief beats me up and leaves me out to dry. Other times, it’s just there. Some days it is like a steady stream, other days it’s a tide, an angry tide and it riles me, a lot. Especially knowing what they say about time and how it heal wounds.
Time hasn’t been able to heal this one, it’s not going anywhere. Perhaps coming to terms with this knowledge means that I have reached the phase of acceptance. This is me admitting that I can not stop grieving for the things, the people and the memories that i have lost, that no matter how many years has passed, the scab is almost always there, day in, day out. Serving as a stark reminder.

I don’t understand grief and I hope I never do. I fear that the day I begin to understand, the scab would start to fade and I’d lose the little memories of my grandma, or lose the memories of not so good times in my life. And I need those memories, to remind me of where I’ve been and where I am.

Maybe I’m just wrong. And this is also a coping mechanism.
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