grief is a leaky, sneaky bitch

9 Sep

1150790_10153148919135277_2074439964_nI am a part of a club where members want to give their membership back no matter what the penalty is for early cancellation. The grieving club is the worst; it’s not like one of those fancy golf clubs where you have attractive women drive up to you on the course and bring you beer. My club doesn’t have shiny toilets or a newly paved parking garage with valet. My club leaves its members with challenging life lessons, guilt, headaches and heart ache, and the task of finding the person you have lost, in a new way.

I know that grieving for a loss never ends.  Only recently have I learned that it morphs into different shapes and sizes depending on what is happening in my life and traveling has opened up a new kind of wound inside of me that I had no idea could exists: I relive her death again and again in the very first moments of the early mornings.

This is what happens: I wake up in a strange, beautiful place. The warmth from the Portuguese sun streams onto my bed from the window. The ray isn’t on me but, instead, lies beside me like a warm gentle presence that slowly coaxes me awake. I turn my head towards the window and look up to the sky because it’s blue and beautiful and happy. Then I experience that fleeting moment where I think to get ahold of her; to tell her where I am, that I am safe and that I can’t wait to see her in Paris. I become happy at the prospect of hearing her voice talk to me over the phone. Only after a slight, soft moment do I feel the heaviness and sorrow quickly weigh in on me. I get a feeling that starts in my very core and works its way upwards where my heart starts to pound while it sinks deep to the back of my chest. It’s a purging feeling that drains me and I have to realize, again and again, that I will never be able to phone her and hear her voice.

This, by far, is the hardest part of traveling.


One Response to “grief is a leaky, sneaky bitch”

  1. ddcleve September 9, 2013 at 3:23 pm #

    A sadness eloquently put into words. The tears flow from my eyes and I want to be there to hold you.

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