The Well of GriefThose who will not slip beneath
the still surface on the well of griefturning downward through its black water
to the place we cannot breathewill never know the source from which we drink,
the secret water, cold and clear,nor find in the darkness glimmering
the small round coins
thrown by those who wished for something else.
This is why I post on Facebook and write on my blog about my grief. There is often something to be gained from going downward into the black water of grief. I suspect I have friends, and maybe even family, who worry about me when I am so openly expressing my grief, that maybe they think I have no comfort for my loss. That's simply not true. I am comforted even as I experience and acknowledge my loss.
There are so many happy stories that I have remembered, so many times when we have laughed as a family at some of the things we remember. But we are here, and he is not, and in spite of my comfort and my ability to revel in the memories, the hole in my heart is still here.
I've said it before and I say it again, the very landscape of my life was inescapably altered when I lost my son. I am sad, I am happy, I am comforted, I am hurting. I walk in darkness, I walk in light. My son is gone, my son is in my heart.
I will not run from that well of grief. I will not stand at the edge of the well, and refuse to dip into the dark water.