When my mom died, Grief became a person in place of her. At first she was quiet, like an old friend, walking patiently beside me. The near physical manifestation was almost comforting in itself. In the first weeks that followed, my mother's death was so surreal it was like I could easily turn back the clocks and have her come back to life.
Then out of nowhere, Grief became a crying child, demanding attention continuously, through all hours at the night. I felt this being follow me everywhere and I was half surprised no one else saw it. Except they did, though not as a separate person. I became a glass vase in the lobby of a firing range. I became a newborn baby that just went out for a nap, or the strict parents of a problem child breaking curfew. In my mother's passing I became the zombie. I'm almost one with the irony of that.
Then one day I woke up and Grief was cooking me breakfast. It made me uneasy so I ate less. Whenever I got home there it would be. It stayed like that for a year or so, snapping at me on occasion.
Just over two years after the fact, Grief is now an ex boyfriend after a bad breakup- except we live in the same neighborhood and know the same people. I see it on the bus sometimes and I try not to make eye contact, but the presence is enough to rattle me for a bit. The good t mes are still as rattling as the resolve. I think that in a weird way, I am better because of it but sometimes when things get to be too much, I am reminded what I'm without. It's the small things that send tears to my face and my body to a bath, trying my best not to think about anything at all.
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