Grief in the Life of Spring

I have grief today. It never ends on surprising me with it’s presence, coming silently with the force of a raging river. The more I struggle to ignore it, the louder it’s scream. So, I write. My younger half-sister was here to visit last week and it seems it came with her, along with a jagged anxiety which I can’t seem to shake either. The darkness, the emptiness, the loneliness, that fills my chest pushing tears to the front of my eyes, yet just to the edge allowing no relief that could come if they fell. 

I miss my deceased sister and Dad so incredibly, impossibly, unbelievably much that I have not words to tell you how I need to see them again, hold them really. I tell myself the good things: “it’s spring, cheer up, see the beauty” “focus on the love around you”. You know, as well as I do, grief has the upper hand and always stays as long as he chooses, the thief that he is, stealing my joy. I think about writing my blog, working with my clay, or creating a delicious meal, and no part of me wants to participate. I’m lost, somewhere in the grief my identity is buried. When I go out into the world, I hide it. Yes, I am agitated with the ripple underneath. My easy smile and lifting laughter is not available to you or that approaching stranger. I cry with my soul to those I love that have left me to release me from this, to help me break free. No one answers. I feel alone here right now even knowing that you are there and you are listening. I feel a starving, thirsting, suffering, ache of aloneness.