can I define it?
Today, in the hushed classroom, my teacher asked, “What is grief?” Lost in a labyrinth of my thoughts, her voice sliced through, offering a generic definition of grief, an offering my soul instinctively rejected. Let me unravel the tapestry of grief for you.
Grief is immeasurable, an ocean of emotions where sometimes you find solace in its warm embrace. At the same time, at other times, it pelts down upon you like a relentless cold shower, every droplet echoing your inner turmoil. It’s that old friend, once forgotten, but suddenly remembered on a melancholy Thursday afternoon, haunting the corners of your mind.
Grief can be like the stranger who settles beside you on a weathered park bench, a silent companion whose presence demands acknowledgement, lingering until you confront its unwavering gaze. It’s akin to Bangalore traffic, an endless maze of stagnation where time slips through your fingers, leaving you stranded with no sight of the horizon.
Or perhaps, grief is the spectre that lurks in the attic of your soul, initially dismissed as a figment of imagination, yet its presence looms large, demanding acknowledgment in the depths of night. We tiptoe around it, fearing the confrontation that’s inevitable, knowing that one day, we must face it head-on.
Grief is the human condition distilled, a contradiction that renders us both vulnerable and resilient in its wake. It transcends time, an eternal companion we carry with us until the final breath, shaping our existence in ways we may never fully comprehend.
