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An Ocean of Grief

Kadi Prescott

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My grandpa passed away two months ago. He was more to me than just a family patriarch. He was my father figure after my own dad left. He was my mentor, my source of inspiration and my biggest fan. In his eyes, I could do no wrong. I was his favorite and he was not ashamed to let it be known.

I did not get to say goodbye. He passed within two minutes, unexpectedly. His passing was the beginning of my battle to overcome a little thing called grief. Guilt plagues my thoughts. I think of all of the things that I did not do before he left. I should have seen the signs of his decline. I knew that something was terribly wrong the last time I called his house and he did not get on the phone to chat. How did I not see it coming?

I mourn selfishly, knowing that he is no longer suffering from Diabetes and heart failure. Everyone tells me that I should be happy for him. I'm sure that subconsciously, I am. But I cannot seem to find that happiness because it has been swallowed whole by the feelings of sorrow and guilt. The grief comes in waves, usually at night. I can function pretty well during the day. I have to. Having seven kids does not allow for any selfish grieving. Then there are moments that the grief comes crashing down and the heartache is unbearable. It engulfs me and won't let me come up for air, like the strong undertow of the ocean. I feel like I will drown this time. I am positive that the current is just too strong to fight against.

Usually, I fall asleep on a pillow drenched in tears and survive the raging sea of sorrow. I awaken with a dull pain in my heart, the abrasions from being tossed around in the waves. I carry on during the light of day, hoping that I can stave off another plunge until nightfall. I have heard that it gets better with time. I so badly want to believe it. Only my husband knows of my struggle. The rest of the world just looks on in apathy, wondering why I act so strangely as of late. Why have I been lashing out? Why am I so unhappy? They cannot possibly understand the truth that inside, I rage against this treacherous ocean of grief. When will the undertow cease to pull me back in? Will I ever feel the calm waters of peace? One can only hope and wait.


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