Grief is a Wicked Monster

Grief is a Wicked Monster.

It’s relentless in its pursuit. It’s an unforgiving master which gives you no rest. It’s a criminal in the night that invades every corner of your mind. It’s a jealous lover who resents the time you try to spend in the land of the living.  Sometimes it’s a gentle tug, like a child pulling at your skirts. Other times it’s a storm that rages and destroys everything in its path. It deceives you too; it allows you to think you have it under control only to rear its ugly head at a song, a sunset, a phrase, a smell, a memory. It’s a thief that robs you of your joy and leaves you broken and battered. It’s a disease that invades your mind, body and soul and leaves you a husk of your former self. It’s a wild, visceral thing that you cannot control. It’s a virus that tries to kill the host. They say that grief is the price of love, as if somehow the debt will be repaid. But that can never be, because like my love for you which has no end neither does my grief.

P.R. Vaughn

8/22/15