Grief is a fire needing careful tending. If ignored, it builds up, going underground, and then erupts violently with a sheet of flame. It catches you unawares like a tidal wave emerging from a peaceful horizon. If tended too much, its flames can burn or even paralyze you.
It’s like walking through a smoldering forest with debilitating pockets of flames and smoke. There is a pathway through the burning – the mourners’ path, forged by those familiar with this inferno. Those who have walked before us can teach us where and where not to go.
If one refuses to see the blazing fires of grief all around them, the flames will still burn. Better to face it, equipped and ready with tools crafted with the tears of those who have walked ahead, and humble ourselves by following the mourners’ path, an ancient, well-trodden trail.
(I am writing this after getting off the path of grieving because of the tyranny of the present and getting hit by a firewall of grief. I have joined a support group with fellow mourners.)
(I just discovered that imbedded in the word grief, there is fire: In the word g-r-i-e-f, the last four letters are r-i-e-f = fire!)