I’m sorry, but I’m not convinced there is actually a “grief process”. That implies that there are measurable steps to take, goals to achieve, etc.

That is just crap. Whoever came up with that was just trying to sell books.

No, it’s more just a matter of “Ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch….” Over and over again, until finally, at last, it all hurts a little less. Then the next day, slightly less, and so on until suddenly you wake up one day and it’s reduced to a livable ache. Somehow, inconceivably, life goes on, no matter how imperceptible its progress may be at first glance.

But the worst part of all this is to see what your own so-called grief process does to others, to the helpless bystanders who happened to make the mistake of loving you before you turned into a sniveling, passive-aggressive puddle of tears and Kleenex. (Yes, #1 faithful blog reader, I am talking to you.)

Really, honestly, this process would be much easier to do in total isolation, curled up on a bed with many, many books and the alternate worlds they contain.

Rinse and repeat until fit for public consumption once more.

But since that option isn’t available to most of us, instead the flak falls on the ones we love, the ones we work with, and the ones who happen to be walking by and get a baleful glare instead of a cheerful smile. Poor unwitting souls. And they put up with it, because they’ve been through it too, and they know that there really is no process to it at all. There’s just grin and bear it, and each day it gets slightly easier for you and everyone else to bear until some day you’re back to being yourself again (plus a little more baggage, of course).

Rinse, and repeat. And hope that everyone around you keeps their heads well down until it’s all rinsed out.

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