Grief is so much more than just five little letters.
Grief is a black hole that can swallow you up at any moment. Grief is not being able to fall asleep for three days straight. Grief is sobbing in your boyfriend's arms at 3 in the morning, so drunk you can't even see. Grief is barely being able to look at your nieces without wanting to burst into tears. Grief is watching your little sister slowly slip into depression, unable to do anything to stop it. Grief is having to turn the radio off after only a few minutes, too many songs reminding you of your pain and loss.
Grief is waking up in the morning and forgetting, just for a second, that they're gone, and then being painfully reminded the next second. Grief is knowing that nothing could have been done to save them. Grief is knowing that you'll never really be able to say goodbye. Grief is collecting rocks, feathers, reaching out for any sign that they might give you. Grief is feeling exhausted all the time.
Grief is seeing that empty chair at the dinner table and trying desperately not to throw up on the spot. Grief is not wearing eyeliner because you're too scared that you'll ruin it with your uncontrollable crying. Grief is being so angry that the room starts to spin, punching walls and pillows and sometimes even people. Grief is being in a room filled to the brim with people, and still feeling empty and alone. Grief is one more tattoo adorning your body for the person that left way too soon.
Grief is endlessly calling and texting that person even though you know that person will never be able to respond. Grief is questioning your faith, wondering if life is even worth living at all, questioning every little thing you've ever done. Grief is flipping through the same scrapbooks and watching the same family videos over and over again, desperate to etch the happy memories into your brain. Grief is a muse, something that forces you to spill words, paint, blood. Grief is a leech, something that sucks all your positive energy.
Grief is watching your mother slowly fall apart, black circles practically tattooed underneath her eyes. Grief is watching your sister bury her husband, the father of her children. Grief is watching the man who taught you how to ride a bike, how to tie your shoelaces, how to carve a pumpkin, how to drive a car, be silenced forever. Grief is feeling your heart tear in two, so realistically that you swear you could hear it.
Grief is something we all experience, but grief doesn't last forever.
