Brick by Brick: Rebuilding the Broken

Grief is so hard. So irreversible. So lonely.  It's like a package delivered to you that you didn't order, you don't want to open, and yet it is yours. A burden you are forced to carry everywhere you go. At first, it is obvious to everyone - the massive load of bricks you carry - the pain, the loss, the empty chair, the tears, the sadness, the depression, the unexpected behavior of the family left to mourn their beloved.  Presumed, even acceptable. Then, somewhere, sometime, somehow - your burden becomes invisible to others. As if they put their tiny package of acknowledgement away, did their "time" in whatever way they chose to grieve with you, and let it slide under the couch, never to be seen or felt again. Their hour of mourning, now neatly discarded in yesterday's news, completely out of their thoughts. While we who are left with a gaping hole the size of our loved one, still carry that black bag with us every moment, every day, with every breath we

Sometimes I am ok. Other days, I attempt making coffee in my CD player... Just trying to counteract my fog-filled choices. That is a daily battle.  You've probably heard of grief fog. There is pain fog as well. It gets really messy - WHEN GRIEF AND PAIN COLLIDE. How to get anything done when I must save my energy  to work around weather flares,   be able to participate in social outings,   and constantly regroup from yet another trigger?  Just when I feel good enough  to accomplish anything of considerable value,        I cram my energies into that small window of time.  Then pay-back begins, for every crime my body chose to commit against itself. The recovery is always longer than the event.  "Oh, you wanted to get groceries today?"  The cost for that will be: 12) Muscles knotting 11) Joints crying 10) Bones a creaking 9) Back a bending 8) Feet a twisting 7) Skin a crawling 6) Ears a popping 5) Spinal crunches 4) Toes mangled 3) Shoul