Grief

It’s called grief. What you’re feeling. At least that’s what I imagine. It’s what I’m feeling.

Not a grief that comes in 5 neat, linear stages. It comes in many different shapes, colors, and textures. It’s rage and hatred, but also numbness and denial, but also tears, but also fear, but also strength, but also disappointment, and hopelessness.

Right now, my grief looks like protest, but not on the street or with signs or with anger, though I imagine that will come, too.

Right now, for me (and maybe me alone)

my protest looks like peace.

My protest looks like joy.

My protest looks like pleasure.

Like connecting with loved ones and holding them sweetly.

Like connecting with my body and celebrating it shamelessly.

I say all of this to say…

Whatever it is you are doing, keep doing it.

Scream, cry, rest, love, log off, whatever,

With your whole heart and body.

Until you find you’re ready for the next step.

(You’ll know what it is when you get there.)

There is no proper way to grieve.

There is no proper way to protest.

It’s not done until it’s done.

And we will all just take turns holding each other until it is.