1442478_31083828 One of my closest girlfriend’s grandmother died about two months ago. This has hit her like a bag of boulders. She loved her like a mother, like many of us adore our grandmas (especially if our mothers are less than lovable). The other day my friend texted me to say she was having a hard time at work. She had just seen a picture of Grandmama and the sight had pulled tears from her eyes that would not stop. She wanted to have a good cry but felt she couldn’t because she was at work. I suggested what you would have suggested: that she find a quiet place and take a few minutes to be alone. But she couldn’t. She was the only one at work so she couldn’t leave her desk, not even for a second. Ah grief. The little monster that never wants to wait. But sometimes it has to wait, right? Sometimes wherever you are, you have to be because you’re the only one there. Sometimes you have to take one for the team, take it on the chin, bear it up and keep a stiff upper lip. Sometimes when Auntie Grief gives you a jab, you have to suck it up and go on as if everything is right and normal. As if your guts aren’t hanging over your waistband and your heart isn’t curled up in the fetal position barely beating. It’s at these times you learn that the Grief Walk is not a sprint, but a marathon. A long term suffering that sometimes has to wait until your coworkers get back from Chick Fil A. A sniffle instead of a moan. A third trip to the bathroom when the bladder is empty but the emotions are full. Sometimes it ain’t nothing but what it is. The good, cleansing cry has to be put on hold even though the pain is pressing down on you, impatient as a two year old who screams for candy in the grocery store. Sometimes (like the old song says) you haven’t got time for the pain. Ah grief.
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