The Day I Met Grief

Dear Alayna,

I wish I could start this letter with the word, “might”, but my heart and life tell me no. It isn't ‘might’ but ‘when’. 

So, my love, when you meet Grief for the first time, it is very important that you befriend him.

-

It was a warm summer’s day when I first felt his presence. He stood on the outskirts of the house. Watching…waiting…as if he was getting familiar with me. As if warning me of his arrival, a chill shot through me. I froze. Fear began to creep up like a vine. Slowly winding its way up, pinning my legs and my arms into submission. Before the vines covered my mouth, forcing me into silence, I screamed with every ounce of strength I could muster, “GO AWAY! YOU’RE NOT WELCOME HERE!” 

He took a step forward, as if unbothered by my outburst, putting his fullness on display. He was terrible and beautiful. “I cannot”, he replied, “I cannot.” 

The vines of fear stopped their ascent. Understanding began to uncurl in my stomach. 

I know why he is here and I know he is never going to leave. 

Accepting my fate, I made one last plea, “Can we be friends?”

Stepping into our house, Grief came to meet me face to face. “Only if you choose”, he quietly replied. Just as quickly as he arrived, he rushed past me. He had an appointment to keep, and Grief and Death don’t miss their appointments. 

I knew she was gone before I touched her. Death doesn't leave you wondering if he’s been there. His mark is distinct: his stillness is smothering and his quietness is deafening. He leaves nothing but ruin in his wake. Still, I reached for her hand pleading to find the faintest pulse. 

There was none. 

There Grief wrapped me up, to kill me or to save me, I did not yet know…