I met grief here…

Day 5 — #writeingrief

I met grief here, at the bottom of the ocean, as I was drowning. She appeared, or maybe she was there the entire time.

“Help me,” I said, reaching out to her.

“But I am,” she said, surrounding me like an iridescent shimmer.

“I am showing you the way, can’t you see?” She took my wrist in her hand, and held it, keeping me pinned to the ocean’s floor.

“But I can’t breathe,” I gasped.

“You’re breathing in pain. It is fresh to your lungs.” she said. “You’re body is changing. Your mind is battling this change. But your transformation is inevitable.”

I struggled to break free of her narrow fingers curled tightly around my wrist.

“Don’t fight it,” she said. “This pain is inevitable. Essential. This darkness, this depth of sadness you’ve never tasted before, is the only thing that’s real anymore. Breathe it in, drink it in. Let it wash over you. I am here.”

“But you’re hurting me.” Panic plucked at my heart. I felt burning in my lung. My screams were bubbles in my throat,

“I am helping you. You’ll see.” She began to swim, tugging me from the ocean’s floor, and pulling me behind her through the icy waters.

Faster, water roiling, lungs straining, eyes blinded, choking.

“I want to go back to where I was,” I screamed, my words gurgling and disappearing into the current.

She let go of my hand, and I slowly sank back down.

“You are already there.”

She hovered near me, watching with a patient smile. I wanted to reach out and grab her hand so she could pull me again because moving quickly through this endless ocean was somehow better than standing in the depths and the darkness. She knew something that I didn’t know.

And then I was alone.