Come on up for the rising...

I've been thinking about writing for a few weeks and each time I think about it, something happens, something shifts my focus, or something unimaginable occurs.

Grief has a way of hiding in the corners.

Lurking just out of reach.

Lulling you into a sense of comfort.

Believing you may actually be beating it.

And then it hits you like the proverbial ton of bricks.

It sucks you back into the vortex.

On June 29th, again the damn 29th, a wonderful couple, friends and relatives at the same time, were killed in a car accident. They leave behind wreckage that far eclipses that of the accident.

The shock, and I do believe I experienced some actual shock, in hearing this news was unimaginable.

The symptoms of PTSD from the sudden death of him, all came rushing back. The deep guttural crying, the giant raindrop sized tears filling rolls of toilet paper.

Grief, trauma, death, they don't care that you have a busy work schedule, that you have to hop on a plane and be productive.

For the most part, people don't care either.

The world keeps moving and expects you to keep up.

This family will be rocked, changed, shaken forever.

These children will always feel the breath of grief at their ear.

As I have said during my journey through loss, everyone experiences loss, and the depth of your personal pain is based on the most recent worst thing that has happened to you. For me it was the death of my mother when I was 24, until he died. For these kids, the worst thing that will ever happen to them will be this for most of their lives.

This has reminded me that I may not have experienced the final worst thing.

That the possibility is there for new and worse hurt.

My body reminded me in very real ways that grief doesn't disappear, it dissipates.

My skin revolted against the stress, my sleep is filled with fitful dreams and gnashing teeth. My heart is both broken and racing.

I am angry and tired of losing people I love.