Wednesday, 7 August 2019

The Atlantic Ocean

I am as guilty as anyone else for thinking in the past that grief and bereavement are linear. That you start out in the middle of the Atlantic (other oceans are available) with waves crashing over your head. The storm so fierce you fear for your life. Slowly you make your way to land, hopefully under your own steam / sails but if not with help from the RNLI. Once you have landed the odd small wave might wet your trouser leg, but it's all under control. 

The reality is that grief is nothing like that. Instead the ocean is full of rip tides, that pull you back into that storm. The patches of what you think are calm water are just you riding the top of a very large wave that hasn't yet broken and when it does you fall so fast you can't catch your breath. The journey to a safe harbour isn't a quick one, it can take years. Your too far out for the RNLI to pull you in, it is too dangerous for them to risk their lives. 

 May be the worse part of it when you have lost your soulmate is that you have to sail alone. When a sibling, parent or even a child dies we have our soulmate to cling to. Another pair of hands to help batten down hatches, move the sails, fix the engine. When your soulmate dies, there's no one. Distress signals are sent, but friends and family can do little more than radio back "you'll be alright, see you soon."
 

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