Good Grief 105

Sometimes I think grief is like a toddler that barely sleeps. It requires a lot of entertaining, preoccupation, coaxing, distraction from tantrums, rest when it is overtired but refuses to sleep, love when it fights back and hates you and the world. Unlike a toddler there is little sense of nurturing something that will develop in the world. There is no evidence of it. It is like the miscarriage that no-one knows about (with the gestation time that seems to go back endlessly in time). The child that was never born.

After a day of doing lots of 'Good Things', lots of practical stuff that needed attending to and some fresh air ... all the things that are apparently 'good for you' I sit listening to the screaming banshee that probably won't stop until exhaustion takes over. Distraction, placation, acceptance, understanding, knowledge, love ... whatever ... she screams and insists on being heard ... seemingly into eternity. I run out of ideas about what will bring her to stillness and quiet ... other than the thing she herself represents. She can be like a siren. A lorelei on the Styx.

p.s. bread turned out well ... sirens like bread .... little known fact