Waves of Grief
Trying to reach the shore. Stable ground. Sure footing. Waves taking me under. Can’t breathe. Need air. Grasping for light above the surface. It’s within reach. Almost there. Another wave takes me deeper. Time it well. I can reach the surface. Taken under again. I’m in over my head. The struggle is leaving me. The next wave arrives. I let go. My fight is done. The dark, warm waters have won. I am going under. All my strength is gone. Pain is still here. Yet it feels lighter. Deep waters consume me. My last breath. Away I drift. Pain is still here. Yet it doesn’t hurt as much. What is this? Salt on my cheeks. Like salt from the ocean. I was drowning. Stopped the struggle. Air breathed me. Waves carried me. Held and cradled. I only had to stop. Allow the grief. Trust the deep waters. Hours of tears. Waves of grief. One after the other. Exhaustion is here. But also a lightness. Peace is not. Not yet. But a glimmer is showing. That glimmer gives me hope. There is a place beyond this pain. Today I am one step closer. Soon I will stand in the light again.
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The waves of grief and sorrow threaten to drown us at times. And when those waves arrive, it can feel overwhelming.
I was overtaken by those waves today; it was in this experience where the lines above came to me.
Grief demands our presence. What is on the other side, though, is a grace after the allowance.
When the storms come to our shore they can be short lived — or last for days, weeks, months, or years. Yet even in the longest periods of grief we can find ourselves in moments of lightness and peace.
You will not feel the lightness and peace until you let the grief in, though.
Yes, grief is demanding, but trying to fight your grief — like trying to fight the waves in the ocean — is a battle we will always lose.
Don’t waste your precious energy fighting your grief. Allow it to come. Allow it to sweep you away for a time. Know that even if it may feel like it, your grief will not drown you. Only in allowing it will you find the light again.