The Taste of Grief

Grief is a funny thing because you don’t have to carry it with you for rest of your life. After a bit you set it down by the roadside and walk on and leave it. I wish I can take your grief and give it to someone we hate. Grief is like a rock you carry in your pocket. 

It’s heavy, it’s awkward, and always there. Pressing against you with every step. Sometimes it’s sharp, cutting into you when you least expect it. Other times, it just sits there, a weight you can’t ignore. You don’t get to put it down, and you don’t get to walk away from it.

You just keep going, because you have no choice. The funny thing about facing imminent death is that it really snaps everything else into perspective. There are no happy endings. Endings are the saddest part, so just give me a happy middle and a very happy start. 

There is no “normal” way to grieve. Except for how we each do it. Move toward laughter. When you hear it, see what’s funny so you can laugh too. Grief teaches the steadiest minds to waver. And remember, it’s also very funny, because side by side with grief lies joy. 

Here’s the thing, every loss is valid. And every loss is not the same. You can’t flatten the landscape of grief and say that everything is equal. It isn’t. The human brain is wired to cope with grief. It knows even as we fall into dark places, that there will be light again.  

Grief, I now understand, is a sort of madness, in the same way that falling in love is madness. What separates us from animals and separates us from chaos, is our ability to mourn people we’ve never met. What is lovely never dies, but passes into other loveliness. 

Grief is my only friend

©️ Gottfried. All rights reserved