There's a moment while reflecting, you realise your grief is now part of you. You don't feel it; you ARE it! A constant ache resides in your chest, a heaviness. No matter how deep you breathe, the sting lingers like a shadow in the setting sun.
While all this happens, you face the world. You nod in politeness, you lie through the plastered smile. "I'm OK," becomes a mantra because if you say it enough, you might start believing it too. The you that existed prior to grief is replaced, a shell of its former glory. The laughs are fewer, the world is heavier and you only remember the weather being overcast.
You don't notice it either but then you laugh, a genuine laugh which you forgot was possible. The kind that makes you aware of how loud you are because you hadn't realised there was a silence. It moves you briefly, bringing back memories of what was, then fleetingly, it disappears again.
The void returns, not as heavy but still hiding amongst the mundane. Sooner, though, the silence becomes harder to ignore but the laughter is elusive too. You sstay stuck in numb, in the nothingness of every day, every thing, hoping something might bring with it a spark of joy. You know there's no timeline for grief but that doesn't mean you stop wishing there was.
Your reality shifts. It still is but is now forever changed. The world seems different although the only thing to shift is you. The world is different from what you remember; luscious leaves lolling lazily in autumnal winds now bare a nakedness. The scarcity of it all, reminds you of how lonely your existence can be if you focus on what you are missing. You dream of warmth...
...But you hide.
Hide in shame, hide in hurt, hide in happenstance. The motions follow you through the days. One day melds into the next and before you know it, fourteen months have disappeared. You know when you stop, however, then the feelings will truly begin.
Which will bring the pain, riding up and out of its cave. It coats your heart in a sludge, suffocating bloodflow, raining an ache across your bloodstream. It reaches your toes, your fingertips. It loops through your cells, infusing and morphing, piercing tunnels to weave a new labyrinth. There's no escape.
The freeways of blood vessels wear the solitude like a shield - nothing gets in but nothing escapes either.
Until a single tear soaks into your cheek, followed by another and more until the night is filled with sobs and wails. You allow yourself a moment of solace, before you return to your factory settings and default to a smile and an "I'm OK."
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A pure expression of sadness. Thank you Sal.