Everyday for the past four months grief is my new companion. She accompanies me to work, the gym and my everyday errands.
My grief is intrusive. She doesn’t care if I’m tired, cranky or fed up. Even when I’m not thinking of my grief she is there waiting to remind me of my new sadness, this new void in my life.
My grief is an endless journey.
My grief is strange, bringing with it a wide contrast of emotions between deep sadness, relief, and sometimes joy. At times I feel lethargic and want to pull the covers over my head. Other times I feel bursts of inspiration and creativity.
Some of you have asked me why I write.
Often I am asked, “Does writing hinder the grieving process, does it make grief hang over like a black cloud?” I write to express myself, I write to memorialize my father’s legacy. My writing is my therapy. My writing helps me cope with the unimaginable, it provides me great comfort knowing that countless others are reading my story and finding some sense of peace during a very dark time.
Countless others regardless of race or religion are able to connect through their own, unique grief.
Grief has shown me that she does not discriminate. Regardless of what corner of the world you reside in, where there is great love there is great grief.
A parent grieves their child regardless of his or her sexual orientation.
A child grieves their parent regardless of their race.
A widow grieves her spouse regardless of religion.
The entire world grieves when we learn of a legend passing.
The entire world grieves when innocent blood is shed because of hate.
We all grieve, we all feel the ache of a broken heart. Depending upon the intensity of the relationship grief comes in all shapes and sizes with no expiration date.
Loss is loss. Loss creates an agonizing pain that leaves an endless sting.