Pardon the wee hour. It seems to me this is your most active time, when I am sleeping, or attempting to. Grief, I am more than familiar with your sneaky-behind-the-scenes ways. Frustration bubbles over at a family member or a co-worker. Sadness pops up at a television commercial and tears roll. Confusion over which cereal to choose interferes with brain function at the grocery store. These are your subtle ways, Grief. You wear so many masks that most of the time you are unrecognizable.

I know you are a deep dull ache. A pain across my chest. Each time Mom lost part of herself on her dementia journey, my heart lost part of me. When she didn’t recognize me anymore, I felt the cut. When she didn’t know herself, it tore me up. We had years of feeling like you were hovering over every step we took. Stalking. Jeering. Sneaking. Never knowing when you would pop your head up. Never knowing what form or mask you would be wearing. My heart was battered and scarred. Like I had been in a fight with the heavy weight champion and lost. I was just getting adjusted to my post-Mom world, a bit relieved to be honest. Her suffering over. Her mind restored. Sadness lingered, but it was mixed with knowing she was whole again.

Then, lest I forget you, you showed up in a different form. A knife plunged into my heart ripping it open. No more subtlety. No more tip toeing around. Direct. Head on. Face to face warfare. One week and Dad was gone. No time to mourn piece by piece. All at once everything was upside down. The tear in my heart opened up and all the feelings that had been simmering for years under the surface, flew out like air out of a balloon. No orderly exit. Every emotion. All of them. All at once. And along with the feelings, my words just flew away. No way to describe anything. Blank pages for miles in front of me. Not just a block…a writer’s barricade. Energy flew the coop as well. Caring about anything became difficult…still is. You made yourself known and my heart bled out. Wide open. No stopping it.

However, Grief, I know a secret about you. I have learned from your previous visits to my life that you are not the culprit of loss, you are the clean up crew. You are the one who stands by so whatever the loss is, can be processed. You are not the causer of the pain, but the spotlight that shines on it. Grief, you give me the opportunity to look at each emotion and decide how to process it. Self-pity? Does not benefit me. Release it. Deep sorrow? Connected to deep love. Keep it. The list goes on. Each emotion under the microscope of reflection. How does it fit now, in my new reality?

These dark places in which you reside are places of transformation, if I allow them to be. Rather than run away from you, I will sit and let you have your way. I will grow in my faith again because of you. God will meet me in this dark place like he has before and comfort me. I would never have gotten to know him so intimately if it weren’t for you, Grief. So, I thank you for that.

As I am processing and waiting for my heart to heal, it would be nice to have my words back. If you could help out with that I’d appreciate it. For now, while I wait for them to return, I am using art to express my emotions. To create. To rest as much as possible. To move forward when I can. I know this place. Same, same but different. Previous visits, different losses, same process of waiting.

That’s all I have for now, Grief.