Apr 13 | Grief

Grief is hating God not for taking him away but for making you write the obituary.

Grief is being so hungry but the thought of eating makes you feel sick.

Grief is knowing someone is sobbing in the other room but you can’t bear to get up to comfort them.

Grief is a keening train whistle at 3am.

Grief is the mountains carving a hole in your ribcage and resting there.

Grief is pouring your Gen-macha into a “University of Victoria Dad” mug.

Grief is a guitar that no-one remembers bringing upstairs to the living room.

Grief is a mostly finished bag of potato chips rolled up and pinched shut with clothespins.

Grief is white sympathy orchids being, for a moment, the worst thing you’ve ever seen.

Grief is stories that you haven’t heard before that make you wonder if you ever really knew him at all.

Grief is a pot of hydrangeas left on the doorstep.

Grief is wondering how the sun could possibly be shining.

Grief is wondering why the whole world doesn’t stop.

Grief is a stuffed turtle in the spare bedroom that you can’t let go.

Grief is a jar of Tikka Masala that he will never use again.

Grief is losing all pretense of composure over a pair of reading glasses.

Grief is screaming, “I want my daddy!” like a toddler simply because it is true.

Grief is rage that other older and sicker people didn’t die first.

Grief is not wanting to see the body so you can remember him just as he was the last time you saw him.

Grief is thinking, “Will this make me stronger? Better? More compassionate?” and your heart laughing bitterly like it will break.

Grief is unbearable gratitude that he recorded those new songs he told you he wrote.

Grief is not wanting to be alone and yet unable to bear one more hug because it’s not his.

Grief is the persistence of snow on the mountain.

Grief is the seeds in the garden that he planted but can’t harvest.

Grief is a stone that melts and re-solidifies, over and over.

 

-Clarity

4 comments so far to “Grief”

  1. Cam Callihoo says:

    That is awesome and so sad. You made me cry and you so made me feel it. I love you.

  2. clarity says:

    Thanks, Cam. <3

  3. Alfred DePew says:

    Clare,
    Thank you for “A Cup of Tea” and this one. My Dad died 30 years ago last month, and what you are writing feels so accurate. Thank you for continuing to find words for all of this. And for God’s sake, keep writing.
    Best,
    Alfred

    • clarity says:

      Thank you so much, Alfred. It means a lot coming from another writer. :) And I will…not that I have much choice, it seems. This is really how I’ve been processing it and I will continue to do so.
      -C

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