When my father died, someone very wise said to me that grief was like a diamond. You would grieve acutely and then the feeling would mellow. Until suddenly the light would catch on another facet of your loss and you would start afresh to feel bereft.
When one witnesses a slow death, one grieves in anticipation. That grief is mixed with helplessness and guilt. Mostly guilt about helplessness. You cannot stop this. Or could you? Is this happening because of you? Your negligence? Your incompetence? It's horrible and even as that potent combination combusts inside your being, you cannot share it with anyone. It is not the same for anyone else. You are grieving and you are alone.
Still, humans are resilient and wired to drag and keep moving from one task to the next, one day to the next.
Until something reminds you of one of the reasons for your grief. Why does this matter so much to me that I am this sad about its loss, despite all that I know about life and loss, about working in the moment? And then, you start over.
No matter how many words you spill, you are alone in your grief. Desolate. Bereft. Sad. Alone.
