Surrendered

I've lost my thoughts. I have feelings only. And that is comprised mostly of numbness or emptiness or sadness. I haven't wanted to burden others with my pain because it is mine to carry and the pain is sacred somehow. The pain is all I have left of the love I have for them.

I think I'm stuck in some sort of hateful nightmare because the reality just couldn't be, but it is. I just want to sleep so I can forget but I am afraid of the time between closing my eyes and drifting off. That unwelcome interval makes me face the harsh fact of a new existence without them in my future. I don't foresee the hope in this new world.

And then the guilt I feel for those they left behind because I'm not capable of filling their lives with joy. It's just not in me. I can hardly muster a smile. I have surrendered to grief. We are never going to be the same now.

No one tells you that memories and moments come to haunt your soul. I thought about seeing the clothes he had laid out to work in that morning that he would never get to put on. That gets stuck in your mind and breaks your heart.

That's the kind of thing that drives you into a deep and dark cave. There you can't hear those thoughts again. There your brain can rest. You stay there until your heart can catch up.

And just when you think it's safe to come out and see sunshine again, another wave hits. Grief teaches you with hard lessons. It teaches you the capacity of which you have to love. You just have to find different ways of showing it now.

Grief is Art in a very pure form.

I've been listening to a neurosurgeon name Dr. Lee Warren who lost his son to a shooting. He explains how the brain is neuroplastic and can be "taught" or trained to heal. Because grief does come in waves and there are monsters in those waves. But there is also love which always remains.

References:

Dr. Lee Warren