Grief, my old friend, you jerk
Grief has been my companion for 21 years since my mother died on January 14th, 2013.
I barely survived his attachment to me then. But I got through it with my father as my best friend.
Then, he suddenly passed on September 10, 2014. And grief sank his claws in again. This time, ripping me to shreds as he made a permanent home.
Through much howling, crying, screaming, and writing, I got strong enough to carry grief with me. Coexisting mostly with only the occasional stabs of pain. A companion that helps me survive by numbing parts of my brain and soul. But we’ve had an accord—a tenuous friendship of necessity.
Today, I feel the claws in my gut as he digs in. My dear friend died in January. But it was at a distance, abstract and mentally boxed neatly on a shelf.
Today, I sat with his ex-wife, children, and extended family at his favorite restaurant. We shared stories and remembrances. It GOT REAL.
It hurts to breathe, and I feel the fog of grief-brain setting in right now to numb away the pain. I feel the sharp edges of the scar tissue surrounding my heart.
I know my grey symbiote is trying to protect me, but at the moment, I feel betrayed.
heaven help me, please
