Grief is such a difficult thing.
It tears families apart.
It wrestles with your innermost fears and doubts and insecurities and ties them up in a pretty gift for you to unwrap
Grief snakes its way into families crevices and broken pieces, and it makes the breaks compound instead of simple.
It yells loudly in your sleep and whispers quietly all day long
It stares at you in the mirror and steals away your smile.
It catches you when you weren't looking
weren't quite ready.
And you are swept away by its jealous hand.
Grief leads you down roads you never anticipated traveling,
and expects more of you than you ever dreamt of mustering,
and pulls you in a million different directions
only to leave you again
Grief is a jealous and tricky friend who wants nothing but all of you,
and will not stop until it has encompassed every crevice,
and you no longer see a reflection of broken pieces,
but you only see grief.
It becomes you.
And you become a version of yourself you've only seen in the lady down the street who never
Grief teases you all the day long with memories and echoes of laughter and painful reminders.
Grief is your unending gift, long after everyone thinks the pain should be gone.
Grief is just getting started.
And it begs for you, Waits for you, and cries for you, in ways only you can hear.
Grief is waiting outside while you are here.
Grief is calling your name.
Grief lulls away the daylight that warms your spirit.
Grief is a lonely and jealous lover
for an answer.
In between tweeting, reading books to my daughters, and [not] burning mac n cheese, I am the Founder + Creative Director of Blessed is She women's ministry + community.