People have told me they do not understand how I keep going. People have told me they don’t know what they would do if they lost their husband or their wife. I try to explain how it feels to have your world turned completely upside down and question everything you ever knew. I’ve tried to explain how it feels knowing that you will never again be loved. How does absolute misery feel? It feels a little like this—like you are fighting your way through a blizzard and the snowflakes keep growing until they each weigh a hundred pounds, pummeling you until your knees feel weak and you sink to the ground desperately clinging to one visible branch in the whiteout—only your whiteout is dark—complete darkness. You grope blindly reaching for some anchor, some semblance of stability. You grasp a tiny branch that seems connected only to air. You pull with all your might to prevent the wind from carrying you into the darkness, but the tiny branch begins to bend under the force of your desperation until it breaks in two and you go flying into the darkness. You are not thrown against a boulder or a tree; you just float aimlessly on the wind while hundred pound snowflakes pound your body endlessly. Grief is like that . . . only you never stop floating on the violent wind, you never find shelter from the cold, and you seldom grab an anchor. If you do manage to find a stable hold, it is only for seconds until the anchor breaks . . . and then you continue floating through the darkness . . . all alone. Endlessly.
©Relinda Shades of Grief