Grief is a monster. It pounces, rips and snarls if you dare feel better. It poisons your bloodstream, scratches your heart and leaves you breathless and broken.
Love? Different. Doesn’t matter how broken that love is, if the person you’ve loved is gone…if you can get yourself to see it as a painful love, rather than grief, the way you can cope is far different. Grief holds us prisoner, whereas lost love holds us close.
So how long am I to stay here? I’m here, on my knees with my arms hugging me because I cannot hold my babies, or the children, or my younger self, or Holly again. So I can only hold myself and try to hold onto the fragile bits of me. I’m kneeling, the tears streaming, the pain in my throat and your screams trapped in my chest. And around me is the gentle cloak of the lost love…who’s arms are holding me today? Yesterday I could feel Holly, holding me, rocking me, her long arms around me and holding me into her. A few days ago I could feel the little arms of children, holding onto me, their little hands stroking the tears off of my face. Today I don’t know who it is holding me; someone very still and calm, with powerful and yet soft arms, holding me in one piece, holding me together, holding me whilst I cry and whilst I look at the gravestone with my name on it. I hear whispers every so often “Stay…please stay…”
I don’t know who it is holding me or asking me to stay. But for as long as they’re holding me, grief isn’t ripping me apart inside. I can stay here, on my knees, a tearful broken mess, whilst whoever this person is who I once loved holds me and keeps me safe.