grief comes in many forms

Grief comes in many forms. Grief comes in all weathers. It does not discriminate. Grief is blind to worldly possessions. Grief is blind to color of skin.

The tides of the ocean swell and fade. They bring in all the worries and trash of the ocean, and deposit them on the shores. Then they slowly slip away, fading into the sand, and just as fast, even the traces of them fade. Then they return.

Grief comes in many forms.

It can show up on the face of a man who is stoic and weathered at his father's funeral. It is the curling of the eyes. The loosening of the face. The anguish. The reddening of the cheeks. The eyes tightened with pain. That moment of ‘weakness’ surrounded by people. His father’s body lying behind him, in an open casket so people can pray for the recently departed before he is buried. The emotion in the eyes that is so raw that you sympathize, even if you did not know the man well. The strong wind, the soft grass, the sturdy and cushiony carpet, the smell of dew, the people bustling about, trying to get their prayers in. All those things fade away in that instant.

The waves bring salt. They smell of the sea. Alluring, tonic of life. The sea, that which gave birth to all life forms on this planet. From water we were birthed, and as it is, we are made up of water. They are blue, sparking and beautiful under the light of the sun. A symphony of color. They crash and splash, a calming sound. You can taste the salt of the ocean in the air. You can feel the breeze as it tickles you.

Grief comes in many forms.

It can be the wailing of a father, the tightening of his chest, the shock running through his system, coursing through his blood as people offer their condolences and tell him how his son will have achieved heaven. The decorated Air Force officer dying before his time. No father should have to bury his son. When you see the grief in this father’s eyes, you see why. Lost, dazed, confused.

The waves bring salt. Which remains behind as the sun warms up the sand, and water leaves, whether through air, or sliding back into the sea from whence it came. The waves bring salt that remains like alcohol on an open wound. White, sharp, shining, particles like diamonds, on open sores in the sand. Hurtful. Painful. Sharp.

Grief comes in many forms.

It can be in the silence of a usually loud, rambunctious person, it can be in the awkward, loud laughter of someone that is usually quiet. It can be in the eyes. That sparkled once, and sparkle no more. It can be in lashing out.

It can be in a love, once thought to be the one. Now lost. The tears that burn away at the corners of one's eyes. The heart that sinks every time it remembers those memories.

Grief comes and fades like so many waves in the ocean. It leaves behind those salty particles that burn and sizzle and nibble away at the wounds left behind by those departed.