Grief has an existence all its own. Yes, the ideation sounds ludicrous. Before my sister died, I would have laughed at this thought. Yet today, here I sit writing about it in complete seriousness.
In the beginning, grief fells all-consuming. It feels like it is you. You can not function. You are in shock. You hear sounds. You see colors. Nothing is clear. The grief is everything. There is no you outside of the grief.
As the grieving process continues on, the grief develops into something more. I know at this points, I sound out of my mind. But I assure you, I am not. It seems illogical that something can become something more than all-consuming. However, it does.
You start to notice you can see the shapes more clearly. The colors are no longer blurs. There is a crispness to them. Life begins to come into focus. Yet in the background there remains this thing. This entity that lurks around.
Sometimes it is in the distance. Far away. A being all its own. The darkness lurking on the horizon. While it is at bay, you can do so much more than function. You can breathe. You feel alive. The breeze upon your cheeks feels refreshing because you can actual feel it. Something as simple as feeling a breeze sparks hope inside your heart.
Sometimes this entity is right next to you. Whispering in your ear. Reminding you off all you have lost. All of the love you will never have again. All of the things that will never happen. So much loss. So much agony. At this point, you begin to go through the motions. That same breeze that was refreshing may not even register now. If it does, it’s a bother. A hinderance blowing everything around. When the grief is walking beside you, it changes your perception on everything.
Then the worst part happens, grief consumes you all over again. It lays over you. Pressing on your heart. Shredding it to pieces. Leaving heaviness in your face. All the clarity is now gone. All the feelings are hitting you over and over. You can no longer control the pain that hacks away at your heart. Your mind is all torn up. Breathing is a laboring chore. Tears flow freely. Coming and going as they please. It is a comatose state. The outside world is nonexistent. The only thing that is real is the anguish that has taken you over.