It moves in without you noticing to be a permanent resident. It seeps into your mind, heart, and soul, dominating your thoughts. Its name is Grief.
Grief turns everything dark and makes you shun the daylight like a vampire. All the sun does is cast empty shadows reminding you who is missing.
Grief brings his sister, Guilt, with him. Together they whisper in your ear that you are to blame. Grief is as mischievous as Loki and as powerful as Thor.
Grief hates laughter and causes you too to do the same. It makes you want to yell at giggling fools, “what’s so damn funny?” And if you laugh, Grief brings Guilt to berate you.
Grief has a cousin called Misery. He is more social than Grief. He loves company. Grief hates it. Go away; I am with Grief.
Grief loves the rain. You can stand with Grief during a storm and weep. It looks like you took too many raindrops to the face. Grief prefers anonymity
Grief enters your mind and puts it in a vise lock. You have thoughts not connected to Grief, but they all lead back to him. Grief strives to be the center of attention.
Grief abhors sleep. His hosts must constantly engage grief. If you somehow ignore him and fall asleep, he will prod you until you are awake and slam into your weary state like a massive wave on a skiff.
Grief remembers all the times he encountered you in your life and ties all the losses together in a black bow.
Grief puts everything into perspective. What bothered you before he moved in is now trivial. Grief conquers all.
Grief is angry that he doesn’t get more respect. Companies give their employees months off when a child becomes part of the family and a couple of days when someone dies. Grief thanks, it should be equal time because he knows no one can work with him dominating their thoughts. Grief is hitting people harder to prove his case.
Grief is a Yankees fan.
Grief prefers the respect he got in the past when people wore mourning clothes that signaled they lost a loved one and permitted them to be a bit of an asshole. You could get away with a lot wearing mourning garments. Then full-time assholes realized they could act with immunity by wearing them. The phony mourners ended the tradition. Their ancestors are currently making fake vaccination cards.
Grief has a point.
Grief has no patience. Grief is always itching for something to start. Grief can morph into anger easily. Grief elevates the indiscretion of others. Grief makes you want to punch someone in the face. If you do so, Grief will not join you in the jail cell. His cousin Terror will. It's another argument for mourning clothes.
Grief never leaves. Grief becomes bored and turns into acceptance. Grief stays in this dormant state but can arise again on birthdays and anniversaries. Sometimes without warning, it comes back and slaps you in the head when you least expect it.
Grief is relentless
Grief is here.