This is Grief

In the quiet, my grief visits me.

It bangs on the door of my heart with force, leaving bumps and bruises in its wake.

It holds up a mirror to my tired face and forces me to lock eyes with the person in the mirror.

It digs up the sorrow and sadness I’ve buried deep below, and offers it to me like a buried treasure.

It grabs hold of my heart, squeezing out memory after memory like an endless movie reel. I try to avert my eyes, but it won’t let me.

It whispers in my ear, reminding me of all the things I miss about you, of the things I’ll never get back.

It speaks into the empty space of your absence, the sounds echoing in my hollowed heart, in the unbearable silence.

It imposes its presence on me, stifles my breath, and makes it so the only thing I think about is you. It makes me face what I’ve worked so hard to avoid - the cold truth, the cruel reality of losing you.

And, when I’m at the brink of pushing grief away, when I can no longer endure the pain, it flips the switch, and suddenly my heart and my soul are lighter.

There’s a light now that didn’t exist before, its rays casting through the thick cloak of darkness, fighting to be seen.

The weight and emptiness have been replaced with a sense of warmth and comfort, an overwhelming feeling of gratitude. For you. For your love. For your impact. For your beautiful light that still shines.

Next to my heartache sits hope, and in their presence I’m reminded that this is grief. This is the delicate dance of emotions, the fragile space where my heart is both broken yet full, where dark and light coexist.

This is the grief journey and it’s a path that I will walk until my time is done, and I’m once again reunited with you.

This is both the curse and the gift of losing you. This is grief.

Photo: Nourhan Ahmed - Photography