Grief is a strange and unreliable companion. We all must meet him sometime, we hope we won’t get to know him too well. But even if we see him many times, we perhaps never know him entirely. He shows a different face to each of us, often a different face each time he comes to call. Sometimes he stands right before us, nose to nose, so close as to steal each breath from our mouths when we try to speak. Other times, he shuffles quietly in the background, his presence vague. At once he can be beautiful and profound, then wretched and hideous in a heartbeat.
We can lock our doors to him, bar our windows and turn off the lights. We can shutter every opening and seal every crack to him, only to find he was sitting there beside us all the time. We never know where or when we may meet him, nor for how long he will stay. Just when we think he will never leave us, we awaken one morning to find he has slipped away in the night. Sometimes we think we could almost bear him, if only he would make his plans known to us.
The only thing we know for sure about Grief, is that we cannot hide from or avoid him, we cannot bargain, plead or reason. I have exhausted myself with all these, while he remains tireless and unmoving. So perhaps I’ll try to look at him differently, now. Perhaps I’ll look him kindly in the eyes and let him sit with me, just for a little while. No longer to weep in his long shadow, but side by side with him until all my tears are gone. Perhaps, in time, he might leave me with a smile instead, some warmth after all the cold. Maybe he will take my hand and place bright memories in my palm. And when one day I can’t remember him, I will save a small space for him in my heart, for when we meet again.
Lucy Brazier 