The Giant

This short story is the fourth installment in “Analog Grief”. It tries to capture the weight and tiring background distraction of grief after the loss of a child.

The giant just sits there gazing at me. He towers over me and won’t permit me to leave unaccompanied. He is ugly for sure, but somehow I have become accustomed to his harsh features. I can see myself in him. I guess that is more of a testament to the changes in me than our original similarity.

For years now, I’ve tried to fight him. I battled to be free of his oppressive grip. In the early days those struggles would simply leave me in worse shape than I’d started.

Occasionally I would sneak away. I would increase the distance between us slowly and then make a break for it. By morning he somehow always managed to track me down again. Like running from my shadow, the dim light tricked me into thinking I’d made more progress than I had.

Now I am finally able to sit in the discomfort. I’ve learned to exist within this structure imposed upon me. I have grown a lot, as I suppose is common under duress. Discovered things about myself that many will never know. I now know what I can withstand, but also the limits where my body breaks.

This towering beast isn’t one I would choose to be paired. Unfortunately, I was never given the choice.

Continue reading from “Analog Grief”…

My hope is that bereaved parents will be able to find here a more visual narrative to express their experience. Also, that other readers may gain deeper insight to the bereft they know through these analogies.

While the stories are fictional, they each portray a very real, personal element of my journey. No single story will describe every aspect but taken together they capture the essence.

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