Grief is a tricky thing. So often it lies dormant, tucked away in your heart, not throbbing or bleeding, but still there. Then some days it decides to poke its ugly head out. It sneaks out and grips your heart until you can't help but feel the pain. Those days hurt pretty badly.
My grief introduced itself into my life nearly two years ago.
Grief doesn't really seem to understand time.Two years may seem like ages to you, but it seems so very short to me. People often think that something that happened two years ago simply happened, that it's over and done. But it's really not. An explosion like that has shrapnel. It has rubble. It has ruin. That stuff doesn't just magically heal or disappear; it lingers and aches.
I will never forget the night two years ago that my daddy decided to tell the truth. I hope I never have to
experience that magnitude of grief again. Since that night, I have mourned. I have mourned a thousand deaths. Things died that you could never even see. Other people don't know that I still ache from these deaths, that I still grieve. They don't understand. And, quite frankly, I don't want them to, because the only way they could understand is to experience my pain themselves, and I would never wish that on anyone.
Some people say that time heals all things, but I'm not really sure if that's the case with grief. It doesn't heal completely anyway. It will always hurt. I don't ache nearly as much as I used to, but it hasn't gone away. It's a different kind of hurt now: less raw, softer, and more familiar. I know my pain by name now. I know how to deal with him, but he will never be a stranger to me.
I'm ashamed to admit that I sometimes find myself thinking that my grief is heavier than someone else's, that they don't deserve to feel the ache because mine is worse. That's very selfish of me. The truth is that everyone has something that aches, some little piece of their life that has been severed or torn or bruised. Life is messy, and we all have cuts and scars. No grief is less than another because all pain is real. I remember when I first met grief I had a friend who was earnestly trying to comfort me. She told me to think of all the people who had it worse than me. I told her the truth: I know there are people in desperate situations, but I hurt, too. My pain is real, too.
I don't bleed all of the time. Most days I am downright happy. Most days I can leave my grief tucked away in my heart. But today, I ache. Today I'm feeling. Today I am not okay. Tomorrow I will be, but not today.
I think that's healthy. I think it's good to look grief in the eyes when he pokes his head up. It's real at least. Honest.
If you're hurting today, I'm sorry. If you know someone who's hurting today, just be still. Listen. Cry with them. You don't have to comfort them or cheer them up. Just ache with them. It's okay to hurt.
