I Don’t Wish Grief on Anyone But Today it Suits You
A message to a man I no longer love
Yesterday, when you told me the news, I could see the weight upon your face and in your posture. These last months, with your mother being cared for in hospital, then at your sister’s home, and then in a hospice, you have been loving the space away from her. But now she is gone, the emptiness is stifling you.
This afternoon, you messaged to ask me to come and comfort our son when you broke the news to him. I was far away from the world of death at that moment, perfectly baked in the June sun and just removing my clothes to plunge my body into the sea.
I paused. My son is everything to me. But you and your world I placed in a box marked “been there done that” where all emotion has been wrung out. Still today, I will not let your whims and wants get in my way.
So into the sea I waded. I shuddered, counted down from three, and threw myself under the water. My breath was gone from me for a brief moment as the bracing temperature quickly began to chill my bones. Your call was not my priority.
But my son’s grief is different. A quick swim was enough and I dried and dressed, now moving decidedly to return to hug my son and dry his tears.
