avatarAlyssa Chua

Free AI web copilot to create summaries, insights and extended knowledge, download it at here

1569

Abstract

p id="15dc">But then you come charging in, leaving me breathless, gasping, reeling. Leaving me questioning, railing at the heavens, demanding an answer — why, why, why? Why do you never come slowly and give us time to process things before hitting us fully? Why must you come so quickly, so devastatingly, so coldly, so sharply? Why must you leave behind more questions than answers, more coldness than warmth?</p><p id="5b3f">As always, I am met with silence, with nothing to hold on to, oftentimes, with no one to turn to.</p><p id="029e">You are the same yet you hit us all differently. With every heartache, every loss, every ending, every closing, every letting go, you come and change what we know. Sometimes, you leave a pain so piercing, so unforgiving. Sometimes, you strike with a blunt knife that can barely be felt but still hurts just the same. Sometimes, you leave us suspended in disbelief at the suddenness of it all. Sometimes, you are the shroud around our shoulders, weighing us down with endless thoughts and regrets, leaving us numb and senseless.</p><p id="51a9">Someone suggested that instead of moving on <i>from</i> you, we learn to <a href="http://theralphsiteshop.com/moving-forward-not-moving-on/">move forward <i>with</i> you</a>. Instead of shying away from what we once knew, we could learn to include you and grow from what you have taught us. Instead of trying to forget, we could learn to let old and new, past and present co-exist in this journey through life, letting it guide us as we go along.</p><p id="cc16">Why not we learn to a

Options

ccept the truth that you have shown us — truth that is big and ugly and sometimes difficult to understand but is still the truth? Why not allow that truth to show us something that we didn’t know about ourselves and the people around us and everything about the world?</p><p id="04a5">And maybe that’s what we need to learn to do. Moving on from you lets us leave behind precious memories, thoughts, moments that we want to keep forever. Moving on takes the past, traps it in a bottle, and tucks it in the furthest corner of our minds where we can’t see it, where we can’t feel it, where we can try denying its existence.</p><p id="1cb4">They say that you need to go through what you have to go through so you can stretch beyond the points of who you are.</p><p id="c3c8">Perhaps we need to take you out and look at you in the eye acknowledging that what we feel is part of who we are. Perhaps we need to learn to move forward with you, letting you carry us in the moments when we feel the lowest, allowing us to build new memories without letting go of the old ones. Perhaps we need to remember that you are not our enemy, but that friend who sits beside us in the shadows, allowing us to feel everything that we need in order to feel, in order to learn, in order to let go.</p><p id="c2df">Perhaps that is what you are for — to turn us into better people, to teach us the patience of loving and losing, to stretch us beyond what we are capable of so we can do much more for the world around us. Perhaps you are there to teach us, to help us grow.</p></article></body>

Dear Grief

It hurts, but you’re teaching me to grow

Photo by Tatiana Syrikova from Pexels

Today, I sit with you again just like I did almost a year ago.

How is it that you come so quietly, so stealthily, without any word of warning, without any banner to announce your coming? How is it that you come and go as you please, never minding the chaos you leave in the wake of your passing by? Never minding the shrivelled bones and parched souls, the heart-shattering sorrow, the questions, the eyes that burn with tears that refuse to fall.

I’ve been acquainted with you in many forms. For my limited mind and the dull ache of my heart, sometimes I think it is too many. I’ve seen you in the face of broken friendships and lost relationships. I’ve seen you at the ending of a season and the closing of a book. I’ve seen you in the death of loved ones, in the passing from one life to the next. I’ve seen you in the early mornings and late evenings and even in the middle of bright afternoons when all seems fair and beautiful.

But then you come charging in, leaving me breathless, gasping, reeling. Leaving me questioning, railing at the heavens, demanding an answer — why, why, why? Why do you never come slowly and give us time to process things before hitting us fully? Why must you come so quickly, so devastatingly, so coldly, so sharply? Why must you leave behind more questions than answers, more coldness than warmth?

As always, I am met with silence, with nothing to hold on to, oftentimes, with no one to turn to.

You are the same yet you hit us all differently. With every heartache, every loss, every ending, every closing, every letting go, you come and change what we know. Sometimes, you leave a pain so piercing, so unforgiving. Sometimes, you strike with a blunt knife that can barely be felt but still hurts just the same. Sometimes, you leave us suspended in disbelief at the suddenness of it all. Sometimes, you are the shroud around our shoulders, weighing us down with endless thoughts and regrets, leaving us numb and senseless.

Someone suggested that instead of moving on from you, we learn to move forward with you. Instead of shying away from what we once knew, we could learn to include you and grow from what you have taught us. Instead of trying to forget, we could learn to let old and new, past and present co-exist in this journey through life, letting it guide us as we go along.

Why not we learn to accept the truth that you have shown us — truth that is big and ugly and sometimes difficult to understand but is still the truth? Why not allow that truth to show us something that we didn’t know about ourselves and the people around us and everything about the world?

And maybe that’s what we need to learn to do. Moving on from you lets us leave behind precious memories, thoughts, moments that we want to keep forever. Moving on takes the past, traps it in a bottle, and tucks it in the furthest corner of our minds where we can’t see it, where we can’t feel it, where we can try denying its existence.

They say that you need to go through what you have to go through so you can stretch beyond the points of who you are.

Perhaps we need to take you out and look at you in the eye acknowledging that what we feel is part of who we are. Perhaps we need to learn to move forward with you, letting you carry us in the moments when we feel the lowest, allowing us to build new memories without letting go of the old ones. Perhaps we need to remember that you are not our enemy, but that friend who sits beside us in the shadows, allowing us to feel everything that we need in order to feel, in order to learn, in order to let go.

Perhaps that is what you are for — to turn us into better people, to teach us the patience of loving and losing, to stretch us beyond what we are capable of so we can do much more for the world around us. Perhaps you are there to teach us, to help us grow.

Letters
Life
Grief
Thoughts
Recommended from ReadMedium