A Mother's Grief

 

Grief is such a lonely journey.

 It's like those nights when I cannot sleep. Just when I thought I had fallen asleep, my consciousness comes alive; and I realize that I hadn't been sleeping -- just floating in a blackhole of mindless wakefulness.

That's how some days feel ... as if I am finally moving forward, finally getting acquainted and used to the weight of grief constantly pressing against my heart.

 Then I get jolted into consciousness and realize I'm still here, where he left me.  And I can't breathe from the onslaught of salt infused rain pouring from this limitless storm cloud inside me.

There is no rhyme nor reason, no logical triggers; no negative self-talk.  It just is.  And it screams.  No.  It wails to be heard, although it has no words.

There is no pain, like a mother's grief.

Art by:  Ina Nolasco