You need to try to master the ability to feel sad without actually being sad.
I believe in the good grief.
There was a five-year period in my life where I grieved. A lot.
There were deaths and a most significant break up. One terminal illness was such an intimate part of my life, I might as well have been in bed with it.
A dear friend recently shared a death experience. The feelings, confusion and questions brought on by the grieving process- how and when to deal or not deal- makes me think, look back and consider who I was then and who I am now as a result.
Grieving is inconvenient.
I realize that the sly workings of grief overwhelm at the most unexpected moments. I think I am okay, I feel myself smiling because I feel a genuine, warm happiness from within when suddenly, my heart is hollowed out and I gasp, in shock that I am felled so immediately and completely. It doesn’t matter that the tears don’t fall because I’m wrecked from the inside, can’t catch my goddamn breath and there goes my plan for the next few hours because I must simply feel out this pain. I am immobilized.
Except this time when I look around, you aren’t there.
This time it’s the death of us that I grieve.
There’s no you to talk to, cry with, come home to.
It hits harder, sadder because before, with you, sharing the grief was so…unlonely.