I sometimes wonder how we survive the worst grief, how we keep breathing when we're smithereens, contained in a body others recognize as how we've always been, though now we are ash and bone, reorganizing our facade from the inside out. We go through the motions until something catches us in our free fall, and we wake to our new capacity. We endure, start again with new players on the board, and the life we once lived, pre-devastation, is a sepia-coloured postcard on the window sill of our fractured heart. What choice but to keep moving forward?
Oh Lorian, you are a singer with words. This says it all, particularly that we're "contained in a body others recognize as how we've always been, though now we are ash and bone, reorganizing our facade from the inside out."
I sometimes wonder how we survive the worst grief, how we keep breathing when we're smithereens, contained in a body others recognize as how we've always been, though now we are ash and bone, reorganizing our facade from the inside out. We go through the motions until something catches us in our free fall, and we wake to our new capacity. We endure, start again with new players on the board, and the life we once lived, pre-devastation, is a sepia-coloured postcard on the window sill of our fractured heart. What choice but to keep moving forward?
Oh Lorian, you are a singer with words. This says it all, particularly that we're "contained in a body others recognize as how we've always been, though now we are ash and bone, reorganizing our facade from the inside out."
I never felt that much grief as you describe, but I've come close.