Tuesday, August 9, 2016

Grief as it staggers in stages

Grief is not a tame animal. It doesn't wax and wane with any predictability. It can consume and it can lurk. When it consumes me, I'm all-out crying or yelling. Sometimes, however, it lurks - I'll be having a moment that I'm "in" and it seems like grief is not on the agenda, then I'll feel its eyes on me, slowly the stealthy fingers tremble their way up my spine until I'm overtaken by shudders and tears. Whether it seizes me or not at that moment is not predictable; it's a capricious being.  There are, however, some sure behaviors that I know will unleash the flood of sorrow. There is "that look" - the one that people give you when they ask "How are you doing?" These are the people who know you well or have been through this themselves - a empathetic wavelength gets established and you cannot free yourself as "the look" pierces to your soul and you're caught. All masks are off and any calm facade is flung away.

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