Someone sent me this article today.
It’s spot on.
On the whole, it’s choppy and messy and non-linear. One emotion doesn’t flow neatly into another but hits you suddenly like morning sickness and can’t be pushed down. The only way to make it stop is to vomit up the feeling — to feel it deeply and loudly. Then, you’re suddenly making a joke: “If he wasn’t already dead, I’d fucking kill him.” And everyone laughs.
The pain comes and goes and comes and goes. You don’t pass one stage, scratch it off your list, and graduate onto the next. It’s not compartmentalized as the chart suggests. It comes in waves. It’s circuitous ad never-ending. Joan Didion said this better:
“Grief has no distance. Grief comes in waves, paroxysms, sudden apprehensions that weaken the knees and blind the eyes and obliterate the dailiness of life.“
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