Grief it’s sudden, messy, chaotic, raw and beautiful. It’s been so long since I have had a really low day(s) that I had almost forgotten how exhausting they are. Emotionally and physically draining. Only a week ago I felt so lost, so raw, so devastated; the pain of Cacia’s death felt so present. The were a number of triggers, all happening at different times, that led to it. ‘It’, what is ‘It’? there aren’t words to describe ‘It’, or explain ‘It’, there is just the rawness and devastation of loss. There is only the inability to communicate with coherence, and that communication only comes in the safety of darkness once the day is over and there are no more distractions.
‘It’ hits, hard, sometimes for minutes, hours, days, weeks. ‘It’ holds you in its grip, with no hope for release until suddenly you’re out, you can breathe again, you can live with the missing space again and function without pretence. It is only now, that I am out of ‘Its’ grip that I can verbalise, or write, about how and what I have felt for the last couple of weeks (or rather how inadequate words are to describe ‘it’). I still feel raw and and sensitive, but I am no longer lost in ‘Its’ grip, and close to the edge. I am as close to ‘normal’ as I ever am; living and functioning with a missing space.
Despite the messy, chaotic, raw nature of ‘It’, I feel that ‘It’ makes me more discerning. I see a beauty in ‘It’, as well as the rawness. I find beauty in knowing what is important in life and what isn’t, I find beauty in surviving and living no matter how messy, chaotic or different it looks, I find beauty in knowing that Cacia’s loss is felt by me in some way everyday that she will never really be lost to me. There is beauty in ‘it’, no matter how raw ‘It’ is.