Grief And Loss: A Short Story

No amount of paper or ink, could completely describe grief or loss. No poet, or wordsmith could truly encompass the writings which surface the pain associated with loss. I don’t plan to attempt to explain the sorrow and the extreme processes of grief I managed, at least not right now. Yet, I would dare to state that no perfect word will ever be found in any language to aptly describe the sorrow of watching the one you love, suffer and die. I could describe all emotions of anger, sadness, and confusion. Consequently, during his suffering, part of my mind was committed to savoring every happy simple moment such as sitting on porch at night, stargazing yet fending off other thoughts “Are we cursed?” or “How can we go from ordering wedding

Reaching with his spirit beckoning me “I rushed to his side, holding his sallow face in my hands, I caressed his drab hair and looked into his sunken eyes replied “I am here baby, I love you.” An hour later I remember my animalistic screams rise from the depth of my soul in the sounds I did not know I could create. The many days which followed could be found in any widow’s book. Nonetheless, I forced myself to keep

I pondered, what would I make of my life now? Did sorrow have to become my name? Surely I could still enjoy humor and search for stars in the darkness. Surely I have a choice in the matter. Suddenly I felt Shaun’s warmth encompass me. I now had the strength and fire to change. I would dare to live my life. ‘Fierce 15’ became my lifestyle, motto, and identity. It was the stronghold to my better ending. I went into the year 2015 with a fire in my soul. I knew if I wanted to see a difference in my life I would need to put the work behind the change. I completely succumbed and allowed pain from my past experiences to inspire my aspirations. No longer would I be “the ballerina who didn’t have the ballerina body style.” I would not let other people’s comments continue to bother me when stated “how can you be a belly dancer if you aren’t skinny?” Or “You don’t LOOK like a competitive swimmer.” I also refused to let people saddle me with emphatic assertions “she gained a lot of weight because her husband died.” I didn’t want the crutch associated with my past; I just wanted to be comfortable in my own skin for once. I had never been terribly successful losing weight before, but this time I knew I had a reason more than ever to prove to myself that I determine my outcome. I borrowed a book from my mom, Eat to Live and completely changed my