Wrote this about grief a few nights ago and wanted to share.

Very sorry for your loss. This is well written. Thanks for sharing.

Nice - best analogy for grief ive come across is the wave analogy - different variations around, but this is one

As for grief, you’ll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you’re drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it’s some physical thing. Maybe it’s a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it’s a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive.

In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don’t even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you’ll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what’s going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything…and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life.

Somewhere down the line, and it’s different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O’Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you’ll come out.

Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don’t really want them to. But you learn that you’ll survive them. And other waves will come. And you’ll survive them too. If you’re lucky, you’ll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.

quote:

---

Nice - best analogy for grief ive come across is the wave analogy - different variations around, but this is one As for grief, you’ll find it comes in waves. When the ship is first wrecked, you’re drowning, with wreckage all around you. Everything floating around you reminds you of the beauty and the magnificence of the ship that was, and is no more. And all you can do is float. You find some piece of the wreckage and you hang on for a while. Maybe it’s some physical thing. Maybe it’s a happy memory or a photograph. Maybe it’s a person who is also floating. For a while, all you can do is float. Stay alive. In the beginning, the waves are 100 feet tall and crash over you without mercy. They come 10 seconds apart and don’t even give you time to catch your breath. All you can do is hang on and float. After a while, maybe weeks, maybe months, you’ll find the waves are still 100 feet tall, but they come further apart. When they come, they still crash all over you and wipe you out. But in between, you can breathe, you can function. You never know what’s going to trigger the grief. It might be a song, a picture, a street intersection, the smell of a cup of coffee. It can be just about anything…and the wave comes crashing. But in between waves, there is life. Somewhere down the line, and it’s different for everybody, you find that the waves are only 80 feet tall. Or 50 feet tall. And while they still come, they come further apart. You can see them coming. An anniversary, a birthday, or Christmas, or landing at O’Hare. You can see it coming, for the most part, and prepare yourself. And when it washes over you, you know that somehow you will, again, come out the other side. Soaking wet, sputtering, still hanging on to some tiny piece of the wreckage, but you’ll come out. Take it from an old guy. The waves never stop coming, and somehow you don’t really want them to. But you learn that you’ll survive them. And other waves will come. And you’ll survive them too. If you’re lucky, you’ll have lots of scars from lots of loves. And lots of shipwrecks.

---

Incredibly well written. I appreciate you so much for replying with this. As far as grief goes, we’re well acquainted. In a 7 year stretch every member of my moms side of the family died, my uncle was murdered by his wife and I found out the little girl I’d raised from birth for 2 1/2 years wasn’t mine. I’ve had a lot happen in my short 29 years of life. Nothing compares to when I found out my sister died. I collapsed trying to tell my mom and hit my head and nose, scratched my face up from the fall. I thought people only fainted or collapsed in movies.

quote:

---

Fr33 will be in here shortly to try to one-up you with some random poem about grief. But what you wrote is good stuff. The best part though, is that grief fades with time and eventually the pain recedes and reverts back to love and memories, at least in most cases

---

Hope so! Fr33 is good people and I’ve always enjoyed his opinion. Rose Kennedy has my favorite all time quote about grief.
“It has been said, 'time heals all wounds.' I do not agree. The wounds remain. In time, the mind, protecting its sanity, covers them with scar tissue and the pain lessens. But it is never gone.”
I couldn’t agree more. I have to fight through grief when I’m dating a girl with a kid or kids. Every time I play with them part of me wants to break the frick down because I can picture my little girls face and how goofy she was with me. She took on my personality. She was witty, funny and very tender hearted. I’ve had so much shite happen that sometimes it feels like grief is all I have left.

quote:

---

Keep you head up and just try to stay focused on things that keep your attention away from the pain/grief.

---

Thanks buddy. I’m actively putting in applications. Got fired last week because I couldn’t mentally handle work and they only gave me 2 days for the funeral. I didn’t sleep for a week. I barely ate. I would cook for my mom who is disabled and can’t really do for herself, and I’d eat one or two pieces of bread so my stomach wouldn’t growl when I laid down to try and sleep. I took Wednesday and Thursday as LWOP, got fired the following Monday. I felt like I was in a live dream. My dad was the same way. I wouldn’t wish this pain on my worst enemy. I miss her more than words can express.

quote:

---

My grandmother's sister and her husband lost a child in infancy. Even when they were very elderly they would visit the cemetery and the grief would be fresh

---

In a strange way, when I cry really, really hard to the point of yelling, it feels good. Like it’s releasing all the pain and anger I hold in. I have PTSD and it’s drug up everything I’ve tried to bury before. It sucks, but it’s necessary. Feels like 10 therapy sessions balled into one good cry when I really let it out.

Will Cover
Always been a favorite of mine since I was in high school lol. My biggest deal is I can’t bring it up to people in person, and it’s the first thing anyone says to me. I’m exhausted. If I could opt into a weeklong medical coma I would. I feel like I’m just an open wound in everyone else’s eyes. I’ve never felt anything so strange as I feel right now. I wish it could be wiped from my memory, but then I would’ve never known her weirdness and impeccable taste in music. She was something. I miss her terribly.

quote:

---

Will Cover
Always been a favorite of mine since I was in high school lol. My biggest deal is I can’t bring it up to people in person, and it’s the first thing anyone says to me. I’m exhausted. If I could opt into a weeklong medical coma I would. I feel like I’m just an open wound in everyone else’s eyes. I’ve never felt anything so strange as I feel right now. I wish it could be wiped from my memory, but then I would’ve never known her weirdness and impeccable taste in music. She was something. I miss her terribly.

---

I'm sorry for your loss and the pain you are experiencing. I'll say this much, without knowing your whole situation. You are still here. You made it. It may suck at times, but you have an opportunity to continue to work on yourself and instead of being stressed, be blessed about what you do have.

Have you tried finding a counselor to who you can relate with? Perhaps one that specializes in grief?

I’m sorry for your losses, I appreciate your sharing your experience with grief. My sister is struggling with grief for the loss of her husband a year and half ago. How do you help someone who is drowning in grief?

I feel that