If any word deserves to be considered a 4-letter word, it’s grief. It leaves a bitter taste, comes in waves upon waves in which there are no rules to its flows and sets. You can’t count and time grief’s waves as a surfer knows when the next big one is coming. They hit you without warning, and do not care for proper timing.
“Mam, will that be paper or plastic?”
“Muwah…. why did you have to ask me thaaaaat?”
Dr Kübler-Ross established a well known and accepted 5-step process to grieving:
- Denial: who me? no way!
- Anger: what the fuck do you mean?
- Bargaining: if I eat more blueberries, can I live longer?
- Depression: what do you mean all those tons of blueberries didn’t cure me? Waaaahhhhhh!
- Acceptance: ok then.
These steps are as true to facing one’s own death, as they are to losing a loved one. But what if the loss is of something other than a life? Such as the loss of a dream, or loss of hope for a type of life?
They say divorce brings its own form of grieving. They say divorce does not observe Kübler-Ross’ well established and documented process. They say divorce is a bitch. They are right.
Sorry, this is not a fictional piece.