ABC's---G

G is for Grief


Grief is a multi-faceted response to loss, particularly to the loss of someone or something to which a bond was formed. Although conventionally focused on the emotional response to loss, it also has physical, cognitive, behavioral, social, and philosophical dimensions. While the terms are often used interchangeably, bereavement often refers to the state of loss, and grief to the reaction to loss.


I often take definitions from somewhere on the internet of the words I have chosen for my blog. I do this because I like to compare the "true" definition of the word to my definition of the word. 


So anyway, up there is the definition of grief. The most important thing about this definition for me is that it is truly multi-faceted. I have said many times I can't believe how much grief hurts physically. 


There are some days when the pain of my grief makes me literally drop to my knees or double over. How is this fair? I mean it hurts everywhere else already, why do I have to bear the physical pain also? 


Cognitively, grief sucks any semblance of togetherness you may have. My friends and I often joke about "mommy brain". It's a real thing. Don't knock it. It's like the second you get pregnant and that little bean starts taking all of your nutrients, you lose a large chunk of your previous brain functioning. Well, unfortunately, grieving brain is much worse. You can be talking to someone, or working on something and all of a sudden your brain just stops working. It's so frustrating.


I found this letter on another website written by a mom to her grief. I think it speaks a lot of truth:
Dear Grief,
I guess we are stuck together, you and I. You are my most constant connection to my son. Without you, it is hard to see him. His memory brings you; you bring his memory. In my mind's eye, you and he walk hand in hand.
Some people would say it is time to let you go. But I would rather live with you, and with my memories, than live without both.
In a way, I am grateful to you, Grief. But my son should be holding my hand, not yours. 


Here is my letter to grief.


Dear Grief,
You suck. I shouldn't have to face you every day. Please give me a break.