This is Grief

In the quiet, my grief visits me.

It bangs on the door of my heart, 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 unearths the sorrow and sadness I’ve buried below the surface and offers it to me like buried treasure.

It grabs my heart, squeezing out my memories like a vice. Though I try to look away, it forces me to relive every moment.

It whispers cruel reminders of all the things I miss about you, of all the things that will never again be, of all 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 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 in the space you've left behind.

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 darkness coexists with light.

This is the grief journey, a path of twist and turns that I will travel on until my time on earth is done, and I am finally reunited with you.

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

Photo: Nourhan Ahmed - Photography