Grief is a funny thing. It comes in crests and troughs, it washes over you in waves, sometimes when you least expect it. Like a strong current it can knock your feet out from under you. It can pull you under with the tide. It can disorient you in the undertow. After awhile you get to better understand the ocean called loss—you know its high tides and low. You can judge how rough the waters will be by the season and the weather. You’re able to stand up and keep your balance better.
Just when you think you’ve charted this terrain what seems to be a small wave on the horizon turns grows to a tidal wave of longing. It crashes down around you and sucks you under so hard and turns you so that down feels like up and up feels like down and it seems you’ll never breathe again. But then you break the surface, plant your feet on the ground, and suck in sweet lungfuls of oxygen and realize, it’s all gonna be ok.
© Michelle Scott 2005
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