Sometimes the grief

Sometimes the grief just rushes in and through the body without any warning sign. As if a tornado has touched the ground. These emotions twirl around inside, sometimes with great destruction. My windows fly open. Tears flood the floor. I am holding on for dear life waiting for this wind to pass.

Sometimes the grief is like a bird song and a cool breeze. I walk outside and a bird somewhere decides to sing and the cool air brushes my skin and brings me so utterly present to this moment of life. The birds harmonize as if you are the one orchestrating them. The air on my skin feels like you are gently hugging me. I can still hear your laugh.

Sometimes grief comes during a deep uncontrollable laugh with friends. Life is fun but I wish you were here. I want you to be a part of these jokes.

Sometimes the grief comes late at night when all is silent around. I am alone and the only thing I can hear is your memories replaying in my head. I love to dream about you. I win the lottery every time you visit me for a short moment. In a short moment, it feels like you are a part of my reality. I can see you smile.

Sometimes the grief comes when I am drinking my coffee sitting in the sun. All is well. The sun shines so brightly it feels like you are tracing my skin with your fingers. Can you see the same sun? 

Sometimes it overtakes me when I see others begin a journey through grief. That all too familiar moment in time. The memory that is burned into my mind and body. I remember the smells. I remember the time, the conversations, the emptiness. 

I don’t know when this grief will come or how long it will stay. Sometimes I don’t feel it for a while. Sometimes I feel it too often. Sometimes I am friends with the grief. Sometimes it is my enemy.  But one thing I do know is I have learned to love this grief because it reminds me of the life you lived. It shows you in the little things and for that I am grateful.