if you ask me how to grieve i will tell you i don't know either. i will tell you throw out the "how to" because there is no "how to." there is not clean one two three's, no finish line in sight. it is messy and heavy and dark. it looks like the trembling contours of someone's back as they hug themselves on the floor and stare at the dust on the carpet. it sounds like the awful creak of the bed at 3:47am as the layers of a dream dissolves in a cold sweat. it feels like the opening and closing of empty palms and the fleeting desire to rip off the thing that is collapsing around your lungs and your stomach and your chest. it tastes like hunger and apathy and weaknesses at the same time, because when food tastes like nothing you are hungry and apathetic and weak. and if you ask me if it goes away i will say no.
but i will also tell you that it stays and it changes shape: that sometimes it will be loud and petulant, and other times it will be tired and retreat into silence. it will sometimes be extra-ordinarily heavy but there will be people to hold it with you. let them hold it with you. it's mostly a dull ache, and in the beginning it's ugly and muddy and hot with pain and cold with ache, but it will become burnished and vibrant. if you look closely there will be colors and it will become rich and warm and life-giving. it will at first rage and demand all your attention but later it will concede to welcome other things, and you will be at first terrified when you feel it welcome joy for a moment. you might hurriedly stamp joy away because won't know how to allow them to coexist. but let it learn to welcome other things, because it is changing and will continue to do so.
and you'll find that the heaviness has not changed, but the weakness in your hands and heart and back has strengthened. you'll realize that it wasn't the only one undergoing change - you with your different hands, heart, back, have gone through fire and pressure by facing that which we call grief but have no words for. and you'll find that it is all of a sudden, light. and bright. you'll likely look at me and wonder how that change happened and i will have no answer for you.
and you'll find that the heaviness has not changed, but the weakness in your hands and heart and back has strengthened. you'll realize that it wasn't the only one undergoing change - you with your different hands, heart, back, have gone through fire and pressure by facing that which we call grief but have no words for. and you'll find that it is all of a sudden, light. and bright. you'll likely look at me and wonder how that change happened and i will have no answer for you.
so if you asked me how to grieve i will tell you i really don't know. i wasn't lucid in the moment and everything was cast in a strange and surreal light. but maybe we can walk and learn together; in time you will taste sweet again, you will be able to sit in your dimly lit bedroom without feeling your chest crumple in. we can get there together.
sidenotes;
i can't write this essay
tonight my heart is stubbornly elsewhere - in the past, in a different location, with different people
tonight i might be crumpling in
i can't write this essay
tonight my heart is stubbornly elsewhere - in the past, in a different location, with different people
tonight i might be crumpling in