Grief is a glass door. At times you miss seeing it, till you walk right into it. That first impact numbs you, even embarrasses you. Till the pain or the shame of it sets in. Why didn’t you see it? How could you walk into it?
We shy away from talking about grief. Some of us even refuse to accept it. It doesn’t help that when you are grieving all you hear people telling you is, ‘Be strong.’ Who taught us that being strong means reining in emotions and tears. That strength translates into being so stoic that feelings are not allowed to find a home within your heart? That asking someone grieving to be strong is a way to nudge them into recovering from a loss as soon as they can and not allowing it to hinder the way they, and you who are connected to them, live your life.
People are awkward around grief. They don’t know how to process it. How to handle it. This is probably why everyone wants those grieving to get over it quickly and move on. Discussions about grief make others self-conscious. The tongue ties up into knots, perhaps remembering their heartache. The right words are never found, maybe because they are buried so deep within the darkness of regrets.
Regrets, that are like weeds growing wildly, even as you keep pruning them. Regrets, reminders that we should have said that, we should have done this, we should have loved more. We should have forgiven easily. We should have walked away. We should have tried longer. Regrets seeped so deeply in grief, making it a poison that stews within. Is this why people fear grief? Because it reminds them of their own? Of lost chances. Of all the things they should have done, but didn’t. Because they thought they had time.
Time, the elusive magician. Slipping through your fingers, form a smokescreen that makes you believe it’s on your side. Poof, the smoke screen disappears, taking time with it. The only things left behind are unkept promises, wisps of hopes and dreams, and sighs.
Grief is bare. Undisguised. Making us look away in shame and terror. Not allowing us to see how easy it is to clothe it, with empathy, care, and patience, so it’s not as frightening anymore.
Grief is a rite of passage. It will alter you in ways you may not even realize until you do. It will polish you to a shine making you precious or tarnish you till you are worthless. That choice is yours.
Grief is a glass door. Walking into it gives you a bruise. Maybe even a wound. However, you have to cross it, if you wish to get to the other side.
