Good Grief (not Charlie Brown)

Grief. It’s something we try to avoid, whether in personal experience or conversation. (Okay, it’s true the exception exists of someone flaunting grief for attention but let’s leave those exploiting loss for their own personal gain to the DSM .  But when asked generally the response is “Fine”. Even if it is so not fine.

Which puts and keeps the grieving at bay, although grief itself, the noun the overpowering shadow that makes only black clothes an almost acceptable, although still somehow too cheerful choice, the go to in the morning. (No pun intended.) Can’t help wonder if it is because when so truly sad black provided a remedy- almost an attempt at color again. “Maybe, if I wear a color that absorbs all the colors in the rainbow I will no longer despise rainbows for existing” sort of train of thought. Until a friend, or someone else comments on the lack of color in your wardrobe choices. So you attempt a change that does not correspond with your feelings and is more accepting less Disney villain. (prior to remake ).  And you curtail the urge to bring up the person, pet or relationship at any opportunity. You try to believe that ‘smiling will make you WANT to smile” . And you force a smile, even though you wrote a thesis paper about how Men telling Women to Smile was a  form of manipulation to coerce women.

And yet we are all warned that if we do not properly grieve we can never move on. So when no one is around, or at least in close proximity you wonder. About real things. Not just how many Twix wrappers are in the trash ( side note: don’t buy Halloween candy early unless you plan on purchasing it again before Halloween. )  About things you know would cause your Mother AND Father grief.  You wonder how much silent and then quiet crying can happen before someone notices. Or worse. And ready excuses like ” I was cooking with onions, the Lemon tree slashed  my arm.”  Because after all, you are an adult. You don’t have a dog Snoopy (probably) and even if you did chances are he is not the red baron.

Instead you wonder why the sky taunts you with it’s ridiculously beautiful cloud formations?  The sun has the audacity to shine? Even the wind sounds like a teasing little sister laughing while you want to cry. The elements are not your only enemy though. How is it possible that Google isn’t changing their landing page to reflect your sadness.  Or Twitter has shut down from the tweets about your loss?

And then you try your very best to make your way through the day even though that day is forever changed because there are holes, gaping holes from where someone used to exist.  And I want to believe in time they don’t go away, but they do get less full of stings. Scars never truly fade.  Somehow though they change. They become conversation points that don’t start (although they might still end) in a flood of tears.  Although it’s been years the wound still feels fresh. I cannot say that I do not welcome the dimming of the sun into night with the prospect of going to sleep and hoping to dream a new dream with a different NOW.


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