Tag: grief

The last few years have been madness. A raging storm coming from nowhere that moves in with a vengeance, hell-bent on destruction and wounding everything in its path. And then another storm. And another. Wind and rain, darkness and fury, a wild grasping in all directions for anything solid to cling to–anything impervious to the onslaught. Even when the raging subsides, relief does not come, as the floods have risen. There is now a different desperation as the waters surge forth and solid ground is lost. Choking and flailing, fatigued and going under… this is the one that is unendurable. This will be the storm that overcomes–there will be no surviving this. The certainty of annihilation sinks in, but alas, the storm isn’t that kind. It dissipates, taking its outrage elsewhere, leaving behind the knowledge that to survive is actually less desirable than to not. It is to wake up battered and bruised, face down in the midst of debris vomiting out floodwaters. Alone and shaken, a gaping soul fragmented and bleeding, yet charged with the unimaginable task of picking up the pieces. Clearing the debris. Searching for bodies while hoping to find none. Assessing the great loss. All the while clutching the soul in the attempt to keep the remaining pieces intact. Surviving is not to be envied.