grief has no master

You think you know, but you don’t.

Grief is like a circle. It goes on (yes, we’ve heard). But there’s more, more circles added and it’s an entity. Not a circle; a sphere. Too big to hold. Slick and always turning. You can’t hold it or control it. Yet it stays with you, link by link.

No, it’s a hexagon. It has sides. Or stages, they say. You go from one to the next then back to the start. But not always in order. You can’t define what side you’re on. They blend, change length, are infinite in number.

It’s an infinagon! So many sides, stages, components, histories, regrets, traumas, feelings. Around and around.

Though perhaps, a square. Severe edges at which you teeter. You fall. Down, down, again, again, unable to find your grip on the impenetrable plane around each corner. Yes, it must have corners. Sharp corners. Harsh. They cut you into a multitude. You try to reform but the pieces don’t fit as they once did.

What shape fits best? Because we must know, understand, and fit it in a box. We must explain, comfort, and console so that it goes.

Yet grief takes all these shapes.

And none at all.

master-a-grief-quote

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