Grieving the Loss: The Ambush of Grief

It’s ambushing, the way it sneaks up on you. Important dates can be anticipated. You know to brace for impact. Even certain places, their places, can be avoided on particularly difficult days, when the air is thick with ache.  As time goes on, yo can learn where some of the pain hides. Grief never leaves completely; you just get better at hurting. It never gets easier; you just get on with half a heart. I’m told that I’ll be stronger because of it, but that’s hard for me to believe when the one I’ve lost was also the source of much of my strength. 

The thing with grief, it often arrives unannounced, breaking you in the middle of an ordinary moment. It lurks…. 

You’ll be waiting at a red light on one moment, unable to breathe the next.

You’ll be folding towels or peeling an orange 

when your legs suddenly give out, 

and now you are sprawled across the floor. 

I think the hardest part about grieving is the way it kills you while (you are) simply trying to survive. 

6/04/26, blog post by a favorite poet: J. Raymond, from his recent volume: The First Ten: Selected Poems 2015-2025.