My complicated relationship with Grief
Grief didn’t come to visit and stay with me for good until earlier this year. Oddly enough, Grief didn’t arrive after a momentous or profound loss of my own. It was barely there when my first pet fish, Madeleine, died. It stayed with me shortly when my grandparents died, but it left just as soon as it came. It was careless enough to leave a mark that reminded me of its presence, yet it was also polite enough to hide it in discreet places where I wouldn’t have to bump into it everyday. It forgot to show up when my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer four years ago, or when her hair had started falling off. Perhaps Grief was busy with other matters. Grief wasn’t something I was familiar with until it solemnly came knocking on my door on an ordinary Thursday afternoon this year. And this time, Grief didn’t have a return-ticket to wherever it came from. Grief was here to stay. Like I said, it arrived on an ordinary Thursday afternoon. I was mindlessly scrolling through Facebook when I ...