so, i don't know if grief be celebrated
so, i don't know if grief be celebrated
but it can be honored. (CW/TW: images of breast post surgery)
i don't know if grief can be celebrated. but i know it can be honored. it can become a ritual of receiving, surrender, permission, and release.
it can look like any thing. from the things that bring you joy through nostalgia to the things that cloud your vision like murky water or foggy days.
sometimes it seems grey. others its this lingering sky blue with too much clearness to make sense of anything. disguised as cheery days but really lingering deep pain that can't be put into words to explain.
it smells like stagnation. and some days like warm banana bread. it smells like sweet flowers or rotting dirt. sometimes, it smells like nothing at all.
it feels heavy, like the weight of the world. maybe the whole universe. it feel like you’re sinking, and can’t seem to feel the surface of your skin. it feels numb.
the thing is that grief creeps. it crawls. pulsates and then dissipates. it is on it's own agenda and makes an appearance when we feel like we've finally let it all go. when we feel like we are beyond the things that have haunted us before. it resurfaces to remind us that we are never actually in control.
so i don't know if grief is celebrated. but it can be honored. witness. ritualized. and allowed to ebb and flow to the pace it demands of us to let go of control.
i feel grief buried deep within my lungs. in my legs. chest. belly. i see it sitting on the sides of my things, creating ripples and dimples, telling truths and lies. i hold grief in my stomach that vibrates to the edges of my throat. feel thudding with authority in the center of my chest. i know grief in my breath and the labor it takes for me to recall how to breathe in and out over and over again.
creation is a tribute to living. telling the stories of what it is to be alive. that includes grief. that includes everything that makes us wish we didn't have to fight so hard to stay alive.
to hold us in the depths of our truths, remind us of love and loss. to hold us in our possibilities, and remind us that we must create space for tragedy, pain, fear, death, and loss. and through this we can find expansions of feeling the pleasures and joys that exist beyond the surface and instant gratifications. we can expand the ways we feel - and remember to appreciate what it is to feel deeply again.
love. love and grief feel the same.
just grasping and releasing. pleasure + pain.
so i don’t know if grief can be celebrated.
but it can be honored.
it can be released.
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