Ocean Waves

Grief is a funny thing.  Sometimes it washes over you like a wave crashing on the beach.  It dumps itself on your head and knocks you down.  I remember being a kid on the beach at the Jersey Shore.  A powerful wave would lift me up, up up and just as suddenly drop me down into the turbulence and foam at it's base.  I would get thrown around like I was inside a dishwasher.  I remember being breathless and being held down by a force much bigger than myself.  I remember squeezing my eyes tightly closed as I was tumbled upside down and being spun around and around. Eventually I would end up at the water line on shore beaten and scraped up by the sand.  I'd be lying there gasping for breath.  Evenutally I would stagger to my feet and have to shake my head to clear it from the bashing it had just been through.  To me, that's what grief is like. You get that feeling in the pit of your stomach as you try to run away from the wave only to be sucked into it by the water rushing toward it, feeding the swell.  It's beyond your control. Most times, it's just best to float and go along for the ride.

Yesterday I came across a picture of Jersey and I standing on a bulk head overlooking the Chesapeake Bay.  We're both looking out over the water.

Yesterday, I had been doing alright.  I didn't feel distracted, I felt able to concentrate, I didn't feel the unbearable ache I had been experiencing.  Seeing that picture though, brought about such a sense of melancholoy within me that I felt myself slowing down.  I could feel myself being sucked into the wave. It clung to me for the rest of the day and nothing I did could shake it.

It's those times when the only thing to do is to float.  You can't fight the feeling so you might as well work with it the best you can. You've got to grit your teeth and force yourself to remain in the present moment; I'm thankful I had Alexa to talk to about it.  She helped me recognize it for what it is: a moment.  A moment of feeling something that's natural and to be expected.  A moment of sadness that faded as I slept last night.

Today, I look at the picture of Jersey I posted above and don't feel triggered. She looks in her element; She looks strong and powerful with regal bearing. This is how I want to remember her - fully present, enjoying the sights and smells of her world; happy to be with us, without a care and at peace.

This is my Jersey.

Onward...