The funny thing about grief is you never really know when it is going to hit. You prepare for milestone dates, and they pass with hardly a tear shed. And then someone makes a random comment or you see a person with a certain look and BAM! You are slammed by a wave of grief right into the bottom of the ocean. Daylight doesn’t even filter down that far. You are lost, grappling for something – anything – that will point you toward the sky. It feels like forever before you break through the surface and take that first full breath again.
You bob there on the surface, treading water, and wondering how you actually managed to float again. The darkness is still down there, pulling at your feet. But somehow, your head is clear. You can breathe and the sun beams down on your face. There is promise in those warm rays, even as you can still feel the cold depths below.
I’m not sure if I’ll ever be on solid ground again. It feels like grief will never let you past the shifting sand on the shoreline. But I do know that there is always the sun. Some days strong, some days hiding behind clouds, but always there to give you a ray of hope. Maybe one day, I’ll be able to ride on top of those waves and feel the sun all the time.