Losing a loved one is an acute trauma that slowly transmutes into a chronic ache. Sometimes it’s hardly noticeable, like when you’re at a social event meeting new people. Other times the throbbing is palpable, like when you return after the festivities to an empty house.
Nothing is as ubiquitous as grief—or as unique. It’s a common anguish that’s hard to share. I’m a professional writer and I can’t adequately put The Ache into words, although I keep trying. (That’s what writers do; give voice to the unutterable and insufferable.)
Loss shifts our gaze from the horizon to our wake as the river of life sweeps us toward the valley of death. The tiny craft we call the “Present” is only about three seconds long and no match for the current. Row like Olympians, we can’t slow down or put into shore.
Each new bend blocks off something precious: youth, innocence, opportunities, physical health, mental acuity and loves one by one. Of course the curves also provide healing distance from: immaturity, dysfunctional homes, indiscretions, toxic relationship and confining circumstances.
My mind knows there’s no future without a past; no tomorrows without yesterdays. For us, time flows in one direction (general relativity aside). I choose to believe it is toward a better place beyond this broken world.
In the mean (sic) time, my heart aches.