When my Father died I was 16. I was so sick and lost without him. I cried. I went quiet. I shaved my head. I got angry. Grieving properly is never for the poor. So I just got stuck into dancing, music and hiding in plain sight from the world.
When my Mother died I was 21. And a part of me died with her. I didn’t realize I was breaking at the seams. I cried about her from the age of 21 until I was 35. I began getting over her death when I became Mother. The pain never leaves. You get used to the pain and it dulls.
The divorce cracked me open and it made me feel the heaviness of death. The end of things are a death. And for the first time in my life I could not hide the pain. I had been in so much pain I had no where to stuff this pain. And so I cracked and I healed. But it is the grief that stays with me like a cloak. It feels like death. A little bit of death stays with me.
It feels like death.