Dear Grief,
Do you know that sometimes you are a bully? I am really trying to learn to live with you, but you are not the best roommate. Don’t you see how much I am trying to navigate this world without my husband? You have to remember that I am new at this. It hasn’t even been six months yet, but you are relentless.
I can live with the sadness and melancholy you bring to the room, but why do you keep surprising me with punches to the gut like on the day that he died? Do you think I could ever forget that day? Those images are permanently embedded in my memory like scenes from a horror movie. It is difficult to be present and “stay in the moment” when you try to lock me in a time machine and bombard me with painful memories.
You are an opportunist—coming at me when I am tired or not feeling well, or on a day with special meaning. You never play fair. Just when I think I have discovered a way to cope with my fears, my uncertainties, my loneliness, you pounce. I once thought I understood you, but this grief is not the version I met when my parents or other family members passed away. This is often overwhelming.
Why do you suck up all the oxygen in the room sometimes instead of letting me breathe in the joy? You make me do things I don’t want to do – stress eat, doom scroll, ugly cry. You are a monster that is so hard to tame, reminding me that life as I knew it is gone, that who I was before is not who I am now. Sometimes you make me irritable and short-tempered; other times you bring lethargy and body aches. None of these helps me be productive. I know that I need you, but I don’t need so much of you.
They say the stronger the love, the greater the grief. Well, I am in real trouble then. They say this will get easier; I am not so sure, but I am willing to play along. Living with you for the rest of my life is not something I look forward to, but I am not a quitter. When I feel like a toddler having a temper tantrum and want to scream, “You’re not the boss of me!” I will try to remember that living with you is not a choice, but how much power I give you definitely is MY choice. I promise I will keep trying my best, but could you go a little easier on me?
Respectfully,
Your reluctant roommate
Rita DiCarne 
Grief does seem to pounce on us when we feel the most vulnerable. You are right when you say the power it has is the power we give it. Although it will always be there lurking in the shadows, we determine how much light we want to shine on it.
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Rita,
This is so powerful and so true. And yes, you have loved so much that the grief is that much more in response. Your thought “They say the stronger the love, the greater the grief.” is a gift to each of us, so we can understand, even just a little bit of what you are going through and be tender, loving and gentle with each day, the good, the bad and the ugly days.
But trusting that God will be there in the trenches of grief to sit with you, to let you lean into Him and to know when it is time to get on your knees and call out at the right time, and there is no set clock for that. And to empower you to let that “bully” know when it’s no longer in control and to fight back with love and courage to say, I am taking my first step without you. Sharing a special verse and reminder to encourage you, Joshua 1:9 – Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”
Love you!
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Thank you, Diane.
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