I am no stranger to grief. It has enveloped my life over the last 10 years. It comes in waves, crashing and drowning me out. My pastor once explained it me like this... 'Grief never leaves us. At the initial loss, grief is overwhelming, it consumes us, it grabs hold of us and we in our state of desperation DON'T WANT to let it go. We wail, we scream, we curse. We fear that if we let it go, we let the person or the situation go with it. That is simply not true. Grief is always with us. What happens as time goes on is the periods of time where it consumes us become further and further from each other. Grief is a part of you.'
I love my grief. At times it is so painful that I want to smash it into the ground, into hell from which it came. But then I realize, that not only does the period of consumption separate itself further as time passes, but when it returns, also with it comes joy...periods of intense joy and happiness of memory or futuristic thinking. It is in those moments where I say...I love you grief. Thank you for bringing me tears, for bringing me memories, for bringing me healing. Without those all consuming periods of grief, I would never be able to gauge how far I have come. How these people and situations have made me grow...stretched me...changed me...loved me.
Death is hard...that is where my grief resides mostly...in death. Death is hard when you leave us at 16. Death is hard when you leave us at 78. Death is hard when you leave us at 29. Death is hard when you choose to leave. Death is hard when you are diagnosed with a terminal illness. Death is hard when your body fails you at a young age. No one of these situations feels peaceful, feels positive.
Today in the midst of grief I found myself saying..."Why do you think I'm so strong? Why do you think that you can continue to pile this shit on top of me and I'll make it through? Why do you have so much faith in me...I don't?!"
This past week as I have seen death, seen it lowered into the ground and as I reach news of impending death...I have felt jealous. I have been slow to admit that, to verbalize it. The crazy fat girl wants to die. It's not necessarily that I want to die, I'm just so jealous of those passing on...pain free world they are stepping into...hugging, seeing, laughing and spending eternity with my Bret Kyle. Lucky SOBs. At the same time...wanting those people here...don't die, we have more to do here. That's what keeps me here, keeps me grieving, keeps me loving. Knowing that I must not be done.
I have been experiencing some extreme situational grief as well. This isn't grief I want, it can be taken from me at any time and it is not something I want to walk around with constantly. This grief is ugly, it is painful...there is no joy in sight. I find myself protecting others against it. I shield those I love from having to deal with it. I am big, I can carry more. At times I remember why I am so overweight...because there are greater spaces in my body to carry the burdens of others, to love deeply for others. At times I love that about myself and thus love my fat...and I don't want to let it go. I've been having one of those weeks, where I struggle between the newer healthier me and the older large capacity "super sized" version of me. I have made lots of good choices and quite a few bad ones... but in the end I know who will win and it's not a 20 piece chicken nugget. I know what champion sized me is supposed to be... and no matter how big or small my body is... my heart will always stay the same size.
Other days I wish I was a bear...so I could hibernate...for years upon end. But the food is better on the human side of things...so I stay here.
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