Grief

Grief is tiring.

The heaviness in my heart crushes me. I'm stagnant, still, unable to move without enormous effort. Gravity pulls on my extremities, dragging my limbs downward as though ball bearings have been slipped under the skin of my fingers and toes. My blood is sludge, it stops and starts through the body. Not fluid; almost solid.



My mind has stalled. I watch as a visitor as I make my way through the day. There, but not really. I dress, look, act normal. Others see me; sense something is wrong, stay away. I am an outsider. I am transparent. If I pull inside myself farther, longer, I may disappear.




I grieve. For what I don't know: my sweet cat, my sister far away, my sister gone these two years. Or for the unknown future and the possibility of losing someone else I love.



Today...I grieve.



Tomorrow...I hope to live.