Although you are not in heaven, I must tell you a few things. You are exhausting, you are unpredictable and you are impossible to hide from.
I know this because I’ve tried to hide many times but you always find me. In fact, in the moments I’m expecting it the very least, you come roaring. It’s like you are sitting there, just waiting for my most vulnerable times, to creep up, plow into me and cause the pain to sear through my chest like a knife. I can almost feel you laughing. Laughing at the sight of my uncontrollable tears and incredible sound of my wailing broken cries. You must know how much I hate crying in front of others, how much it trembles my entire existence to wear my emotions so raw for all to see. You have a terrible sense of humor Grief.
You exhaust me. After your unexpected attacks, I am left lifeless, weak, simply depleted of all energy. I couldn’t cry in these moments if I wanted to and by then I usually do for the sake of knowing I am still in control of feeling something after you leave me so numb. But no, there is no bargaining with you Grief. It’s always on your terms.
You probably know how much I like to be in control. Is it fun for you, Grief? Is it fun for you to break me down and cause me to spin out of control? You must really enjoy people like me. You know, the ones that smile for everyone else. The ones who try so very hard to see the glass half full, the ones who are trying their hardest to walk with God in their despair. We are the fun ones for you, aren’t we? I hear your snickers, “I told you so, I will always find you.”
I know I can’t hide from you Grief. I’m starting to understand and expect that you will be around for quite some time, possibly forever during my earthly existence. But don’t you worry grief, my time will come to smile down upon you and say, “You can’t find me anymore Grief, I couldn’t feel your heart ache if I tried.” I will be shed from this pain, from your vicious attacks. I will be with my creator.
I day dream about that moment in which I am greeted at the gates by our maker. I think about what his first words to me may be and I think they will go something like this, “You made it my daughter. Job well done. Here are your children.”
One day Grief, one day.