Holes

How does one write about grief?

For me, grief is numbing. A hole in the heart and spirit.
I feel utterly alone, but at the same time, connected to the earth in a way I normally don't feel.

Dust to Dust. etc.

I go through the motions. Answer the phone. "Hello, hi, how are you?" Get people their books. Work. Smile. Cook dinner. Watch a movie.

But I'm a shell.

The inside of me is turmoil. Or, extreme calm. Unable to feel. Just a cold dead ocean.


In a way, I'm grieving for my father along with my aunt. Death bring up all the sludge that just sits at the bottom. Years of debris and sediment on top.  Being ignored until another passing.

I'll miss my aunt. I miss her already. I missed her when I went to florida to see her and she was just skin and bones and pained smiles.

I'll miss the stories I'll never know about my father and her. About my family. The secrets and the reminiscing.

I'll miss feeling like someone in my family understands my particular brand of crazy. I'll miss talking to someone who was frank and treated me with so much love and told me the truths about things. How she dealt with being called bipolar. Her hurts and feelings. And how it runs in the family.



I never understand how I get back to normal after this. How the pain slowly stops. How everything stops reminding you of your loved one. How I can breathe and laugh and smile. I know it happens. It always does. But right now I'll take the sobbing and the numbness. And my lack of words for everything.