"And when your sorrow is comforted, you will be content that you have known me. You will always be my friend." ― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
I've been thinking about Grief lately. Over the years, I got to know this fella pretty well, enough to know when he decides to show up at my house. You see, he used to live here before. Now, he only comes for a visit.
We are friends now.
Things haven't been smooth between the two of us all the time. I remember the first time we met: Grief showed up unexpectedly, without invitation. I don't remember opening the door; there was no knocking. He just let himself in.
I think he heard my cry.
Grief moved in without permission, slept on the couch, followed my every step. My privacy was violated; I was exposed and vulnerable. Grief felt untrustworthy. I felt apprehensive towards the stranger, not knowing how to deal with his aberrant behaviour.
He didn't know how to deal with mine either.
There were times when I yelled, gnashed my teeth, threw things in anger and frustration. But Grief didn't move; he just sat there and stared. And when I was drowning in my tears, Grief didn't say a word of comfort.
What a strange friend he is.
It took some time to get to know Grief; it took time to get to know myself. And I realized that I don't need to deal with Grief; instead, I need to learn how to relate to him. And I did. As it turned out, we have much more in common than I previously thought. Grief is not my enemy, you see. He is my friend, quirky and eccentric.
He still shows up uninvited.