Grief Doesn't Knock

By Sadie Dybizbanski
November 25, 2015

Grief doesn't politely knock on the door of your heart and wait to be invited in. Grief doesn't greet you politely with a warm hug and hostess gift.  Grief breaks down the door, shatters the glass panes of the windows and fractures holes in the walls.  The roof caves in as the grief arrives and barrels through the structural beams.  Grief threatens the security, warmth and joy where your heart desires to reside.  Once the walls have come crashing down, the cold wind blows through with memories, what-ifs and deep dark sadness of how you dreamed your life would be.  And then the absence arrives, the emptiness where she should be spreads out among your thoughts.  You are now consumed with this grief that wasn't invited but feels known so you ask it to stay.  Where this grief is there is also closeness to her, the familiarity of the pain reminds you that she was once in your arms, a thought that seems distant when grief has left.  Grief is messy and clumsy.  The destruction left behind by grief leaves you feeling broken.  Grief slowly slips away, as love and the distractions of life arrive to the torn down door.   Distractions barge in, but love stands at the door and waits to be invited in.  She tells you of her friend Joy that is on her way to your heart if you just says yes.  Love promises that your heart can be rebuilt, that windows will let light in again, and that the roof will provide shelter and keep you warm.  If only we had this same choice when Grief arrived, the choice to say yes or no, not today.