A Letter to Grief

Today's post is a special link-up with Kate Motaung's "Letters to Grief." Go check out Kate's blog and the many other letters to grief written by my fellow bloggers. If you're so inclined, write your own letter and link it up by using the link up at the bottom of the main entry (click on "many other letters to grief" above).

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Dear Grief,

We have been travelling through life together for nearly two years, but it wasn't until recently that I realized it was you. True, depression has been my companion for this same duration, but I had no idea you had come along for the ride. I think you buried yourself in depression's skirts, keeping hidden until Pendragon saw through your disguise. I would never have seen you there without his help.

He says that you are the reason I wear almost nothing but black and this makes sense to me. Colours feel all wrong and black sometimes brings only cold comfort, but it is a more appropriate shroud to console my broken heart.

I have lost so much in the last two years. Is it any wonder as you have been with me, prodding tears and pulling me down and down and down again? You have pricked my pain and rubbed salt in my wounds and I never even knew you were there. Your whisperings have induced oceans of tears and an ache so deep and so painful that I have wondered if I would ever be at peace again.

You have threaded your way through my very veins, enmeshing with my spirit and severing the ties of head and heart that have allowed me to feel the presence of God. That precious gift of being able to feel Him walking with me, holding me fast, comforting me, giving me peace and solace amidst the storm of depression is gone like so much candle smoke in a summer breeze.

No matter how many prayers I pray, tears I cry, or how many times I beg of Him to restore this to me, the miracle never happens. I have wondered many times why this is so and I believe it is because of you. I believe it is because I am unable to fully let you go.

Oh grief, how I want to let you go!

But I do not know how.

You have brought me so deep into your embrace that I am made weak and woozy at times, drowning in the despair which you pour over my head and despite my desire to break free from your clutches, I find myself falling further into you with each month that passes.

I am heartbroken and spent and hopeless because of you. I had thought you a nameless sadness that was keeping me captive, but thanks to this insight, you now have a name other than that clinical moniker, "depression."

I name you -- grief -- and pray that in giving name to you, I give myself enough strength to escape you one day.