
Grief is a solitary room,
a place you sit in alone.
Over time that room stretches;
grief becomes a shared landscape,
the mourned being landscape itself—
not gone, but part of the air
that settles around each connection.
It turns into a kind of weather
you move through
and breathe.
Nailed it….👍
Thanks, Peter.
That solid feedback truly helps🙏🏻🕊️
Beautiful words. Rich and full of imagery.
Regards
James
Thank you, James.
That’s made this day more lovable 🙏🏻🕊️
“Over time the room stretches” that is so true.
Thanks, Fía.
It’s the little truths that fill a day🕊️🙏🏻
Damn, Bricky, you may be right. It’s been a while since I’ve been anywhere where grief is part of the landscape, but I recall times when I have been among those who are helplessly lost in their grief at the loss of a loved one, and the air was palpably thick with it, cloying, making it difficult to breathe. You are absolutely correct, my friend!
There’s also our Charlie Brown days: “good grief!” Thanks, FD🙏🏻🕊️