A Letter to Grief

G R I E F, the five letter word that I despise. I hate you grief, I mean I literally hate your guts! You mean that someone I love is gone from my life. You mean sleepless nights. You mean eyes filled with tears. You mean an ache in my heart and a void in my soul. You mean a longing to see, hear and feel that person next to me. You mean a shout and battle cry for a full on brawl.

No matter what I do I can never get rid of you. I cannot seem to shake you off. It is like you are stalking me , watching my every movement day in and day out. My body is constantly preparing for the day or moment you will strike. Then the day you hit, I fear the shock wave will send currents through my body knocking me over. Forcing me to double over in the worst pain imaginable.

You seem to control my every mood and cannot seem to be satisfied with the pound of flesh and bucket of tears you produce. You are relentless, and just when I seem to be moving forward you slap me in the face reminding me that you are still there. The guilt you produce flows through my veins spilling out onto the pavement with a parade of regrets and what ifs. I do not know why you cannot just leave me alone and let me be.

I am on my knees begging you to just let your grip over me go. All I want to do is move forward, take one step. I want to move another step and feel joy. Then I want to take another step without fear of relapse. I want to be free of your hold over me. I want to remember my son without you standing over my shoulder. I want to smile and think of the memories of holding him, singing to him, loving on him, instead of feeling the sadness that creates an ache in my soul. Just let me heal dammit, I need to continue to move forward!

Sincerely,

One grieving mother

A single golf clap? Or a long standing ovation?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.