In words, like weeds, I'll wrap me o'er, Like coarsest clothes against the cold: But that large grief which these enfold Is given in outline and no more." Tennyson
My beloved husband, Kent, died in January 2012, 3 years after diagnosis of a brain tumour. Our son was 2 1/2 and our daughter 3 months old. He and I were far too young. I am now hurtling through the black space of life without him.
Wednesday, 30 May 2012
Feeling the Waves
They say that grief come in waves and I would have to agree. The falling-to-the-bottom-of-the-pit grief I mean, not the constant ache. But it's not just that it hits like a wave, you can feel the ebb and flow as well. You can feel it coming, moving in towards you and you know it will soon hit, and afterwards it leaves you soaking wet for a while.
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