(Grief Journal entries are taken directly from the journal I started days after my daughter’s death. They are my raw grief set to paper. I am sharing them here in hopes that others who grieve will see themselves, and at the same time see that survival is possible.)
The pain of my loss is a freight train – an inescapable tidal wave of pain. I can’t run fast enough or hold my breath long enough. It hits me full force regardless of my resistance.
I fight the pain. I meet it with my best defenses – both fists raised, back bowed, head down like a fighter. I scream at it, railing with all my personal force. I grapple with grief. Every weapon in my possession I bring to bear on this enemy. I fight until I literally pass out….
Over and over it comes, this wave, this freight train. Not daily – no not even hourly at this point, too often to count. I can barely move but for the repeatedly crushing blows of my grief. How can I escape?
I cannot. I must lay down on the tracks and let the train come. I must greet the wave as it crashes, hurling me down against the rocks and sand, somehow trusting I will survive to breathe…
And do it again. And again. And again…. My “progress” being measured in the tiny increments of space between the train wrecks.
Oh! I grieve!