Here we go…

What can I say? Thank god it’s over? Not really. I can’t just put the year in a bottle and send it off to sea. But I guess I can try that fermentation, or marination thing, which I believe is what I am doing. “Sitting with it”, as some would say. Sitting with my losses, with grief, being in it, under it, present to it, slave to it. Master? Ha! I would never be so cocky, as grief would shut me right down, and “clown slap” me, as my husband would say.

No one can “master” grief. Grief is an ever-changing process, the elusive pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, a slippery bag of snakes.

I know, I shouldn’t use such negative terminology, because really, grief is what’s getting me through. It’s like a big umbrella sheltering me from my loss. Or perhaps, more like a filter, only allowing through what I can take. But I chafe at it; there are times when it feels more like that big clumsy cone-thing they put on dogs’ heads, “the cone of shame”….that’s to protect them from themselves, too, isn’t it? I want it OFF!

Yet my industrious mind, and self-preservation mechanism is in charge now, keeping my vision and ability to nibble at my stitches reigned in to a narrow area. I need to accept this. Sit with it, like a good dog.

But please don’t start throwing clichés at me, like “God only gives us what we can handle.”

Nooooooo. That would imply that someone else has control over this process I am going through. Yes, I would agree, it is like there is a “higher part of me” that has taken over. Somehow, a wiser, smarter part of me is filtering the shit-storm coming my way. But the only person, “being”, or “entity” that is getting me through this is ME. And my relationship with this cone around my head.

Holy shit. I just realized I am in a relationship.

With Grief.

Ok. That’s going to take a while to process.

Possibly another full year, maybe many. I am willing to give it a try. But you know something, Grief? I have never been one who likes to be boxed in, or defined by a relationship, I want to keep things open…

So, if I may, I’ll quote one of my other boyfriends, Michael Franti. That’s right, Grief, there are others, who’ve got my back, so you’d better get used to sharing me,(from Stay Human),

“I keep on living with the fullness of the one, like the heat of the sun or the skin on a drum. I’m fully marinated, now I’m ready for the fire, so you can fire, one. Fire, one! Fire, two!”

Ok, Grief, let’s do this thing.

5 thoughts on “Here we go…

  1. You’re right. No one can master grief and it’s different for everyone. For me, grief is the dead weight I carry around, making every day things harder than they should be. It can shroud me in dispair and make me ache physically. Grief changes from pain and tears to bitter black anger in the blink of an eye. Grief sucks, but it’s a part of loss and ultimately healing. I wish you all the best and hope things get easier for you.

  2. I’ve been thinking of grief as the hard part, the dark place that we get sucked into. But you’re describing grief as something that shields us from something even worse–the loss. That gives me something to think about.

    I’m glad you’re two-timing Grief. He gets around. What a cad.

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