I feel like a broken record ever since I truly felt grief. I can’t grasp it, yet I understand its existence. I can’t beat it, I can’t outgrow it, or diminish it from its attachment to my being, yet I keep seeking the way to do so.

You’ve got to do better. You  have to find a way to find comfortable ways of coexisting and accepting that grief is here to stay whether you like it or not… things I tell myself.

Grief in all its forms somehow has made its presence in my life. Grief and death, grief and life, and grief in change. Yet, as familiar as I have become with its shadow on my days, I can’t seem to find any sort of resolution for not feeling internally disheveled by it.

It is true, some days are harder than others, and I get that, but is that really the reality of life? Do we always battle grief one way or another?

Truthfully, I’m not sure what form of grief is worse, or if they’re even comparably measurable. All I know is that they hurt comparably the same. I know that grief is connected by loss. Loss of life, loss of the very much so living, and loss of what used to be and is no longer. Loss is intertwined in change, change of existence, change of relation, change of life as you knew it, one way or another.

I picture a spider’s web, beautifully created by a mastermind, a creator, yet each silky thread has a purpose, a cycle, the circle of life. But what if each part of that web was a story, a life lesson, a piece of that spider’s very existence? The web represents wisdom, strength, failures, triumphs, it encompasses grief amidst joy, and coexists by simply existing and continuing to try and navigate life as it would if grief was absent.

So maybe that’s the answer, maybe there isn’t a solution other than existence and finding comfort in the purpose of your existence even when grief shows up at your front door with bags ready to unpack. Maybe we just create a spare room in our space for it to live because fighting it, kicking it out, will never actually work. Grief needs a home too, and maybe we are that home, whether we understand it or not.